For Narnia
by cassandrajane
Summary: Nia's just your ordinary orphan except that she's heiress to a dukedom. Exiled from the dukedom and made to stay with a batty professor, she enters a Trunk, and emerges to Narnia, where a great destiny awaits her... If she survives. PeterOC
1. The Wooden Chest

**DISCLAIMER: _All characters belong to C.S. Lewis, except for Nia, Toulouse, Helaena, and Nicodemus._**

**CHAPTER 1: _The Wooden Chest_**

"Nia Evenshire, are you even listening to me?" Mrs. MacReady's indignant voice roused Nia from her reverie. She couldn't be blamed for daydreaming, really. The professor's house was extremely interesting, with all its historical artifacts, suits of armor, marble busts of some philosopher… The house was as large as her father's mansion in Kent, and much older.

"Yes, Mrs MacReady." It was Nia's first visit to her mother's friend, Professor Kirke, and she would live here and study in the nearby school until she turned 18.

"And don't even think of touching those historical artifacts!" Mrs. MacReady said. "They're worth more than you are." Nia knew this wasn't true. Nia's parents had been the Duke and Duchess of Kent. But that was before they died in an air raid in London two weeks ago. They were on their way to a Parliament meeting in Whitehall. Needless to say, they didn't make it to the meeting. Now, Nia was the Duchess, thanks to the new law that allows females to inherit the title and the estate if they were first-born, except that her Uncle Nicodemus had taken over the dukedom as regent until she comes of age. Uncle Nicky was a very kind man and thought it would be best for Nia to be with the late Duchess Helaena's friend. But still, a Duchess was a Duchess.

"I won't."

"Now, you must behave yourself when you're in this house. No running in the halls, no swimming in the stream…" There was a stream at the back of the house, which was a pity because it was such a hot summer's day and Nia felt she could really do with a nice bath.

They had reached the second floor landing now, and were proceeding to Nia's room.

"You're lucky to have a room to yourself," Mrs. MacReady said, as if she wanted to strip Nia off that privilege. "Now, there are four other children in here, and you must behave accordingly with them." Nia took this to mean that the housekeeper wanted her to act like a Duchess in front of those other children. And she was determined to do the exact opposite and be friends with them. Nia didn't grow up in the ducal estate, anyway. She grew up in Finchley as a commoner, with her mother staying there with her and her father visiting at least once a week. "Now remember," Mrs. MacReady said, "not to disturb the professor."

Once Mrs. MacReady had left, Nia opened her suitcase and a black Burmese cat tumbled out of it.

"Toulouse!"

"I know, I know," the cat said. "I stowed away. Again" Nia wasn't alarmed to hear her cat talk. She had grown used to it. Toulouse was her mother's cat, and Nia couldn't find out why he talked. Her mother didn't know he did – as far she Nia knew, and Toulouse talked to her, and only her, and made her promise to keep it a secret or else he'd up in some freak show or something. Toulouse had a very annoying habit of stowing away.

Toulouse made a show of examining the room critically. "Not bad, you know, but your room in Aunt Maeve's house in Virginia was so much better." At the age of ten, Nia and her mother were sent to a relative in America to protect them from the war. That was four years ago. She'd returned with her mother six months ago, and her father wasn't exactly pleased.

"I like it," Nia said. "I mean, look at all the historical artifacts! And this place looks more like an 18th century mini-palace than an actual house!"

"You are such a nerd, which is probably why one of those Finchley friends of yours, Piper…"

"Peter," Nia corrected. "And I know what you're going to say. I am a nerd, and Peter didn't like me because I'm much too boring."  
"Never mind. You know you're anything but." Toulouse licked his paw. "Besides, he was only, like, eleven when you left. You couldn't expect the guy to like you at age eleven."

Nia bit her lip. Back in Finchley, there was one boy she had a crush on. Only the boy had been one of her best friends and she couldn't tell him and risk ridicule. Not that Peter Pevensie would even think of ridiculing her. And she couldn't tell his younger sister, Susan, who was closest to her. She'd tell him. Sad to say, she lost contact with them when she went to America.

"I mean," Toulouse was saying, "you're very clever, and you're full of surprises, and you look beautiful as well."

"You're only saying that to flatter me," Nia said. Nia thought she was quite plain, with her rather unruly light brown hair, which fell just past her shoulders, and her face was perfectly ordinary, with no poetry in them. But her eyes, people said, were one of the most beautiful they'd ever seen. It was a warm, chocolate brown, full of life and expression. Her mother had been a very beautiful woman, and as a child, Nia would always slink away at gatherings so she couldn't be compared with her mother. "Now, it's Su who's beautiful."

"I'll say," Toulouse said, very eager to change the subject, "where are the other children?"

"Mrs. MacReady said they're outside playing cricket."

"Well, then," Toulouse said, jumping out of the bed and padding towards the door. "Shall we?" This meant he wanted to go on exploring. He and Nia did it whenever they were in a new place. "This place is huge, and it isn't like that crone you spoke to told us not to explore. She only told you not to run, nor touch the historical artifacts, nor swim in the stream, nor ride the horses, nor…" This went on, and Nia had to laugh. She really wasn't listening to Mrs. MacReady earlier and considered herself lucky Toulouse was there to listen and remember for her.

Nia opened the door and they walked along the corridor, side by side, until a ball smashed through one of the windows and hit the suit of armor in front of them, sending it crashing down the floor.

"Run!" Toulouse bolted down the corridor.

"It wasn't our fault!" Nia gasped, struggling to keep up with him, bumped into a glass bust of Plato, and watched in horror as it broke into a million pieces. Toulouse stopped. "And where the heck are we going to hide? There are lots of doors in this house!"

"Now it's your fault!"

Nia tried every door in the floor and found one that was unlocked. "This must be the professor's study.'

Indeed, it was. And it looked like one of those old-fashioned offices, grand and full of oak and carpets and bookshelves. Nia, who was quite the bookworm, stared at the room.

"What's going on there?" It was Mrs. MacReady.

"Quick!" Toulouse said, motioning towards a large wooden chest in the corner. "In there!"

Nia opened the chest and eased herself inside. Toulouse jumped in as well and she closed the lid.

"Nia!" Mrs. MacReady was calling her name. She sounded angry. Nia held her breath. "Narnia Evenshire!"

* * *

Nia waited some time until Mrs. MacReady's voice faded away, and counted to one hundred. Then, she opened the lid.

She was still in the trunk, but she wasn't in the Professor's study anymore. She stood up.

"Whoa," Toulouse said. They were in a forest of some sort, and it was one of those forests that made you forget about wolves and panthers. It was one of those forests that reminded Nia of the stories of a magical land her mother used to tell her of. The land that, Helaena Evenshire said, was her namesake.

"Where are we?" Nia asked.

"Narnia Evenshire," Toulouse said in a strangled voice, "welcome to the land of Narnia."

**_END OF CHAPTER_**

_**AN: I hope you liked it, even though it was a bit short. The chapters will become longer once she's in Narnia. I just watched the Narnia movie and thought it was great. I'll be using some characters derived from other Narnia books such as The Horse and His Boy, although I'll change some of their backgrounds here and there. And yes, Nia's full name was Narnia. And as for my other fanfics, I'll be updating them soon. **_


	2. The Lost Princess

**CHAPTER 2: _The Lost Princess_**

"Excuse me?" Nia was pretty sure her jaw had dropped as far as it could. "What do you mean, 'the land of Narnia'?"

Toulouse sighed. "This is definitely going to be harder than I thought. Nia, everything you see from here up to Cair Paravel in the great Eastern Sea is Narnia."

"But Narnia's just a setting for several bedtime stories Mum used to tell me!" It was true. Nia was even named after the magical Land of Narnia. Sure, as a child, she wished Narnia was real - in fact, she still thinks of Narnia from time to time to comfort herself during the past two weeks – but it was only a fairytale! A story Nia's grandmother (whom she'd never met, her Mum being an orphan) told her Mum to keep away the monsters under the bed!

"Well, did it ever occur to you that those stories about the 'fairytale' land of Narnia are based on true stories?" Toulouse said. "And please, do shut up… I'm sure Lena told you about tree spirits? They're real too, and I'm sure they're laughing at you. It's almost embarrassing…" Lena was her mother's, Helaena Frank-Evenshire's, nickname. It sort of differed her from Mrs. Pevensie, whose name was Helen and was called "Aunt Lenny."

"But that would be almost like saying the Land of Oz is real, too!" The Wizard of Oz was her favorite non-Narnian story.

"For all we know, it could be."

A million questions flooded through Nia's mind, but she narrowed it all down to one.

"You're Narnian, aren't you? Mum told me enough to know about Talking Beasts and the like."

"Well, of course!" Toulouse said this with an extremely proud air that gave Nia an urge to hit him. It was also illogical, so surreal… But still, deep in her heart, Nia knew she believed this was real. "Lena sure knew how to make such seemingly ordinary facts interesting enough for good storytelling."

At the mention of her mother's name, Nia was jolted. The reality that her parents were dead had come crashing back to her… But somehow, it didn't feel so bad. Somehow, Nia knew they were watching her now, from a better place. Nia wasn't particularly inclined to a religion, but she did believe in a "better place," whatever that is. But… Another question popped in her mind.

"And Mum… She knew you could talk!"

"_Oui," _Toulouse said. "Of course she did. She's Narnian!"

"She's Narnian!" Nia exclaimed. Wonders never cease! "How come she never told me? I would've believed her!"

"And then, you'd grow up and think she's a lunatic to claim that she came from a fairyland. Besides, you'd have told your father, one way or another."

Nia bit her lip. Her parents loved each other so much… She couldn't bear to think there was little trust Mum had to her Dad. "But… They loved each other!"

"Of course they did!" Toulouse looked affronted. "Narnians only marry if they love the person they're supposed to marry in the first place. It's insulting to think… But then, I see you point." Here, he paused to lick his paws. "But then, if you were your father, how would you react if your fiancee tells you that she comes from another world?"

"I… I would think she's a raving lunatic!"

"Exactly." Here, Toulouse turned away from her. "Now, shall we? I wish to visit a friend, and then I'll tell you how Lena and I got here. I'm really surprised the Great Winter's over…"

"Which means the prophecy must've some true," Nia said, following him as he trotted ahead through the magical forest.

Toulouse looked back in surprise. "What prophecy?"

"You're Narnian, aren't you? Isn't it about those two boys and two girls from our world who're supposed to kill the White Witch, bring the Great Winter to an end…"

"I see Lena told you that much. I expect you'd feel as if you've lived here all along soon enough."

* * *

They walked on and on until they came to a small door placed on the base of a cliff. Nia thought they must've walked for hours, but although she did feel a bit worn, she didn't feel as tired as she should've been if she were back in England.

"Now, behave yourself," Toulouse said. "This is the house of the Faun Memnus, who fought in the War against the White Witch. He's a hero, and everyone knows this. And if he calls you by title, then say politely that you don't know what he's talking about, okay."

"I know very well how to behave properly! Aunt Maeve taught me manners!"

"See? You get indignant easily."

Nia kept her mouth shut as Toulouse called out, "Memnus, most honorable faun, it is I, your good friend, Toulouse. Would you please open your quaint home to me and my friend?"

They waited for a few seconds, and then, a rather shy-looking Faun opened the door. Nia's eyes widened. It was the first time she'd ever seen a Faun, and all she could do was gape.

"You were looking for my father?" the Faun said politely. "Come."

"Oh, do stop gaping," Toulouse whispered as they entered. "You look like an idiot!"

Nia found the Faun's home very cozy indeed, and saw various bookshelves, and books with titles like _"Is Man a Myth?" _or _"How Aslan finally triumphed over the White Witch."_

"The White Witch's dead!" Nia exclaimed. Her mother told her the White Witch still ruled over Narnia.

"Of course," said the Faun, who'd been saying to Toulouse that his father was dead. Then, as if noticing her for the first time, he gaped at her. "A Daughter of Eve!"

"Of course I am," Nia said. "I'm Nia, by the way. Nia Evenshire."

"Where are you from?" the Faun was looking at her queerly. Nia began to feel rather uncomfortable. He must've noticed this and said, "I'm Tumnus, by the way."

"Nice to meet you, Mister Tumnus," Nia shook his hand. "I'm from England."

"That's the country where They who rule at Cair Paravel came from! I'm honored to have met a fellow countryman of Their Majesties'."

"How could Memnus be dead?" Toulouse demanded. "He was only a young Faun when I left Narnia thirty years ago!"

"But here in Narnia, you've been gone for almost a hundred years," Mister Tumnus replied.

"Time must flow differently among the worlds," Nia mused. "How long has it been since the White Witch was killed?"

"Little more than a year ago. Hang on, I'll make tea. You must think I'm a very bad host."

"Oh, not at all," Nia said, standing up from the plush armchair to look at the books again. She found one about a Queen who was so beautiful that even the stars descended every night to woo her and claim her for their own. It was very familiar to her since her Mum told it to her often. She took the book back to her chair and opened it. The book opened to a beautiful painting of a very beautiful woman with long black hair. Her eyes… They stood out among her perfect porcelain complexion.

"That's Queen Swanwhite," Toulouse said, just as Mister Tumnus came by to pour tea into their cups.

"It's funny, really," said Nia, "bit Queen Swanwhite… Her eyes… They're just like Mum's!"

At this, Mister Tumnus looked sharply at her. "I beg your pardon?" He grabbed the book and looked intently at the picture, then looked at her, as if drinking her in.

"Please stop that," Nia said after a few awkward seconds. "I'm not accustomed to getting looked at."

"You're Toulouse the Royal Cat, aren't you?" Mister Tumnus asked Toulouse.

"Well, of course, I was just a kitten back then…"

"Hang on," Nia said, bewildered and feeling out of place between the two Narnians. "Toulouse's name is familiar to you? Why is that? What have you got to tell me, Toulouse? Why are you looking at me like that, Mister Tumnus? And why does Mum have Queen Swanwhite's eyes?"

"You see," Mister Tumnus, "there were Kings and Queens in Narnia before the White Witch's reign… And the last Queen was Queen Swanwhite."

"And what does it have to do with me?"

"Queen Swanwhite and her husband, His Majesty, King Thorn," Toulouse hesitated, "are your grandparents."

* * *

"They're my what?" Nia couldn't think clearly. She was in shock.

"When the White Witch attacked Cair Paravel at the onset of her reign," Toulouse said, speaking fast now, "she left no one at Cair Paravel alive – and that includes Their Majesties. But then, your Mum, who was a young girl of eight at the time, Her Highness, the Princess Helaena, was away visiting her old Nurse at Beaversdam with some centaurs and me. The tree spirits passed the message of the White Witch's attack to her immediately… But then, Lena was young – have I mentioned she was only eight at the time? – and inexperienced. The White Witch had eradicated her immediate family and blocked the Archenland-Narnian border, cutting her off from her distant relatives. She, together with her Nurse, a beaver, and me fled to the most remote parts of Narnia and lived in hiding.

"A year after that, the native Narnians had a sort of last stand. Your Mum played a great part in that War…"

"My father Memnus fought in that War, too!" Tumnus interrupted, but was silenced from making further comments by Toulouse's annoyed glare.

"I," the cat said, "do not appreciate the interruption. So, I was saying, Lena rallied the trees – she was nine, then – to join their side. She was a great debater and stubborn as a mule, refusing to give in to the other side…"

Nia had to smile inspite of herself. She remembered that day six months ago when she overheard her mother talking to Aunt Maeve about returning to England. Nia bawled and screamed and had been a total baby, but her mother was adamant. Because Nia couldn't bear being parted with her mother, she stowed on the ship and only showed herself when they were already on the dock in England. Her parents had been both exasperated and delighted. Mum told her about the War in Narnia, too, but only as a storyteller, not as a witness.

"But then, they lost to the Witch," Toulouse continued. "So, your Mum went back the live in hiding. One day, she went against her Nurse's wishes and went out to look for some food. Some of the trees had joined the Witch's side, and reported news of her to marauding wolves. When we heard the wolves' howls – I was with her then, a rather fetching kitten I must say – we ran through the forest until Lena tripped over a large root. We thought it was the end of it, until we heard someone said, 'Don't you think it's a bit late to play?' And when we looked, it was an old man – not that old, but probably in his late forties, which was old enough. Well, the long and short of it is that we found ourselves in London – I don't know how, but we did. The man was a professor named Digory Kirke…"

"Digory Kirke? The mysterious professor?" Nia couldn't believe it. "Uncle Nicodemus said he's a lunatic, and Mrs. MacReady made him sound like this sinister old bachelor…"

"We're staying at Kirke's?" Toulouse looked at her incredulously. "But last I heard, his house was in London."

"He sold it," Nia said. "Then, he stayed in that country house he inherited from his father."

"He'd been in Narnia before. I'm sure you heard of the story of the Creation of Narnia…"

"So, he was the Lord Digory who went to the Western Wild and planted that magical Tree to prevent Jadis from returning to Narnia in the foreseeable future!" This was getting weirder and weirder.

"He took us in, educated Lena with your English ways. So, Lena graduated from Oxford with a degree in Classical History, met and fell in love with fellow graduate Henry, and married him. They had you. The end. Finis."

"So?"

"So," Tumnus gave a small laugh, "Nia, don't you see? You're now a Princess of Narnia!"

"Narnia Evenshire," Toulouse said solemnly, "the Princess of Narnia."

"Your name's Narnia? It certainly is a great honor for you to be named after this country!"

"I can't be a princess," Nia objected. "I mean, what about the They who rule at Cair Paravel? They deserve to rule. I've done nothing to prove my worth. Besides, I would do so horribly at it. Trust me. I've always hated politics. And what would come of my announcing it?"

"We all thought Princess Helaena was killed," Tumnus mused. "But now it seems as if she hadn't been killed at all."

"Well, she was killed in the War in our world," Toulouse said. "Oh, please, stop looking so shocked, Tumnus. It happened two weeks ago."

"You have to come to Cair Paravel," Tumnus said to Nia. "You have to meet Their Majesties."

"You think they'd be pleased to see me? A contender? Oh, honestly." Nia shook her head and sipped her tea. She certainly did NOT want to be a princess. Nia had seen enough politicking in her father's dukedom to know she'd never, ever get herself involved.

"Well, I was going to go to the Castle, anyway," said Mister Tumnus, "Their Majesties are troubled, what with wolves and giants and dwarves and condors rebelling against them, and Calormen having conquered Archenland in the South. But then, they'd be happy to see an English girl's face, I suppose…"

"Well then, I guess I'll go with you after all," Nia had to admit she was rather curious about these people of "Adam's flesh and Adam's bone" who'd rescued Narnia from the White Witch. "Just don't tell them Swanwhite's my Gran."

"That's pretty easy, really," Tumnus replied. "Just as long as you don't go near a portrait of her. Except for the hair, the complexion - she's rather pale, isn't she? - and the face shape – yours is oval and hers is sort of heart-shaped – you might just as well have been twins."

**END OF CHAPTER**

**AN: **_Thanks to all the reviewers and readers who'd taken the time to read the fanfic. Isn't Will Moseley simply fetching? For those who may be confused, Nia entered the trunk a split-second after the Pevensies entered the Wardrobe. And yes, Nia has serious self-esteem issues. Updates will be on a weekly basis, so, RnR!_


	3. Royalty by Blood

**AN: _All except characters who don't belong to C.S. Lewis belong to C.S. Lewis. The plot is mine. This is an AU of HHB, although I will be using characters from the book (such as Cor and Aravis)._

* * *

**

**CHAPTER 3: _Royalty by Blood Meets Royalty by Conquest_**

Peter the Magnificent, High King of Narnia, Lord of Cair Paravel, Emperor of the Lone Islands, Knight of the Most Noble Order of the Lion, et cetera, tossed and turned in his bed as he slept that night.

_He was walking past rows of houses until he saw a girl with rather unruly light brown hair sitting on the front steps. She was crying, her face in her hands, and he rushed to her and put his arms around her._

_"Hush," he whispered, stroking her hair – his voice sounded oddly high-pitched. "What's the matter, Nee?"_

_"Daddy said," Nee drew a shuddering breath, "Daddy said we're going to leave!"_

_Somehow, he felt as if someone had punched him in the stomach and poured a bucket of ice-cold water over him. "Leave? Where"_

_The girl removed her hands and looked at him in the eye. The moment Peter saw those eyes, he was lost. Those eyes were hypnotic pools of a deep coffee color, and they were now screaming, "I don't wanna go!"_

_"To America!"_

_"But that's like, an ocean away!"_

_"I know," the girl said, her voice cracking. "And I don't want to leave you here. Or Su, or Ed, or Lu. Or even Aunt Lenny!"_

_"But that's only temporary, isn't it?" He was trying to comfort himself as much as the girl. "And we'll write often?"_

_The girl replied by sobbing harder._

_He saw one of those small flowers growing on the pavement and plucked one, and gave them to her. "Don't worry, Nee, everything's going to be fine…"_

When King Peter woke up the next morning he couldn't remember what he'd dreamed about at all. It just slipped away, like most of the memories of his life before Narnia

* * *

"Your majesties," the centaur Oreius said, entering the Great Hall and bowing before Peter and his siblings, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy, "General Khabir of Calormen has sent you a missive."

"Please," Peter motioned for him to read it.

"_General Kabir, son of Maan, commander of the Great Tisroc's (may He live forever!) Most holy army, Lord of Anvard, Governor of the Most Autonomous Region of Archenland, to Peter, High King of Narnia, Lord of Cair Paravel, Emperor of the Lone Islands, and future subject of the Great Tisroc (may He live forever), greeting."_

"Oh honestly," Edmund rolled his eyes. "What's with all the 'May He live forevers'?"

"Ed!" Peter admonished, "I need to listen to this! Go on, Oreius."

"_With the blessing of the Great Tisroc (may He live forever) I hereby declare war on Narnia and on the Lone Islands. The battle is set on the morn of the autumn equinox, near the Dancing Lawn. Your majesty may choose to surrender and thus prevent further bloodshed. May the Great Tisroc live forever!"_

"It sounds so phony," Susan commented. "Why couldn't the Tisroc have written it himself?"

"Because he doesn't want to have to send messengers across the desert," Edmund replied. "That letter's horribly demeaning! I mean, 'future subject'? The rotten little cheek!"

"We're not going to surrender, are we?" Lucy asked Peter, who was deep in thought.

"No," Peter said. "Why should we?"

"But there are the rebels as well," Edmund mused. "They may have struck a deal with this Khabir fellow. Besides, their army may attack us by sea while we're busy in battle. I mean, look, they've got Archenland's navy, and their own navy's not too shabby either."

"Oreius," Peter said, standing up, "summon my advisers."

"A pox on the advisers," Susan muttered so the rest wouldn't hear.

* * *

The past few months had been chaotic for the four monarchs. Several giant families, wolf packs, dwarves, birds of prey (aside from the eagles) and other leftovers from the White Witch's Army had formed an alliance and were now poised to engage Narnia in a civil war. Several negotiations had taken place, but one side often had a condition the other could not possibly meet. It was useless.

Add that to the looming threat of Calormen in the South. Several weeks ago, the treacherous Southerners had taken Anvard by surprise, killing its ruler, King Lune, and enslaving everyone who was not important enough to be killed right away. To make things worse, the heir to the throne, Prince Cor, vanished without a trace. It wouldn't have been any problem at all had not his brother, Corin, been killed as well. Somehow, Peter had taken the responsibility to find Cor before the Calormenes get to him. To make matters worse, enemy spies ran rampant in the woods. Those caught by the tree spirits performed suicide rather than be brought here in the great Castle alive.

Wherever Prince Cor was, Peter sincerely hoped he was a fast runner.

Queen Susan the Gentle and Queen Lucy the Valiant strained on their spyholes to hear the conversation taking place inside the High King's office.

"We should trounce on these rebels at once, sire," one of the advisers, a leopard, said, prowling in front of Edmund and Peter. "The sooner we get rid of them, the better off we'll be by the time we fight those Calormenes."

"But what about further negotiations?" Peter asked. "I wish for them to be on our side as much as possible. We still have a good two months to gather our army and negotiate with the rebels."

"That's not much time," Edmund said quietly.

"Where's Mister Tumnus, anyway?"

"We'd summoned him, sire," said Oreius, "but he is not at home. Mister Beaver (may he recover fast) said they had not a word from him ever since he came back from Cair Paravel."

Lucy looked at Susan, worried. "Where could Mister Tumnus be?" she whispered.

* * *

"Do you actually know how impractical it is to wear flowing skirts while hiking all the way from Lantern Waste to Cair Paravel?" Toulouse asked Nia as she tried not to trip over the large tree roots in the forest. It was lucky Mister Tumnus was some ways ahead, on the lookout for Calormene spies. Since they'd planned on keeping Nia's identity a secret, and Nia resembled both Swanwhite and Helaena ("They're both pale ladies, you know," Tumnus said, "I like your complexion more. And you have a slightly smaller nose…") to a great extent, the Faun thought it best not to involve the trees, who'd been befriended by Princess Helaena all those years ago and would certainly have remembered her.

"It's not my fault Mister Tumnus was so keen on making me look so… so medieval," Nia said. Mister Tumnus had insisted on having her wear a midnight blue hunting dress with a flowing skirt to make her seem more "presentable to Their Majesties," which Nia thought was totally bogus. She packed her old clothes (which consisted of a yellow sweater, a long-sleeved shirt, dark brown midi-skirt, socks, and her old, more durable leather shoes) in a rucksack together with some provisions. Mister Tumnus said Their Majesties didn't remember much of their past now, except for their names and certain people (their parents, for example), so it was best not to culture shock them in these troubled times.

"It's safe," they could hear Mister Tumnus say. "Let's go… Come on, you two. While we're still young."

"Honestly," Nia rolled her eyes. "If he'd only let me wear my own clothes…" Nia was a renowned runner in her primary school in Finchley and often beat the boys in her Aunt Maeve's town in Virginia. Running was no problem for her, when wearing good old ordinary clothes. Which were in her bag at the moment.

"He's getting a bit touchy, isn't he? Probably nervous to meet his superiors…"

It's not that Nia was having a hard time walking fast because she was out of breath – she wasn't, Narnian air's good for you – but because she was tripping over her skirts. The last time Nia wore dresses like these was over three years ago at a Spring formal hosted by her Aunt Maeve. Her Uncle Nicky, who was visiting, must've seen how uncomfortable she looked and promptly sent her to bed. Nia had long harbored an aversion to parties and gatherings where everyone would say something about how you looked and how you dressed. If it were a complement, they would say it to your face. If it were not, they would say it among themselves. Nia was one of those wallflowers, to young to have a decent dance partner apart from her father (who was in England and rarely visited), her Uncle Nicodemus (who visited more often, but not much), and her Uncle Basty, Uncle Maeve's husband, and (in her opinion – Toulouse often remarked what low opinion she had of her beauty) too plain to be noticed.

"Narnia's extremely beautiful," Nia sighed, taking in the sights and sounds around her. "It's so… serene. Lucy would've loved this."

* * *

"What does the High King do?" Nia asked Mister Tumnus a few hours later. "I mean, I know he rules over his brother and sisters, but what does he do, exactly?"

"Well, basically," Mister Tumnus said, "he rules over all of Narnia, while his siblings are confined to their jurisdiction. His younger brother, for example, is Duke of Lantern Waste."

"You mean, like a governor," Nia said, remembering the Governor of Virginia. Nia had been familiar with both the American and British Governments.

Seeing as Mister Tumnus looked blank, Toulouse answered for him. "His siblings are the governors. And he's the president, the senate, and the Supreme Court rolled into one. Or, he's Churchill, only without the Parliament who can control him."

"He sounds very powerful," Nia mused, feeling intimidated by someone she was yet to meet.

"Oh, he is," Mister Tumnus said, "but he bears his power very gracefully. He's humble, but when you see him, you think 'Oh, he's the boss around here'. But he's very nice… Very much of a gentleman, and very handsome, too." Poor Mister Tumnus probably thought Nia would giggle with delight at this. On the contrary, this only made her more nervous about meeting the High King (whatever his real name is).

Nia met no danger on the way, and by the time it was too dark to walk, Mister Tumnus made camp on the banks of the Great River ("It's even wider than I imagined!" Nia exclaimed in delight) and had the Dryads ("Or river nymphs," Nia said to herself, recalling her Mum's stories) watch over them during the night. These Dryads had never set eyes on Helaena before, but had noticed her resemblance to Swanwhite.

When Nia was fast asleep, the Dryads would say to Toulouse, "Isn't she a beauty? Her skin looks flushed… She's blooming…" Or "Her hair's rather messy, but oil it properly and it will fall into lovely curls… But on second thought, it's very charming the way it is." And "I daresay she looks a lot like Queen Swanwhite!"

At this last comment, Toulouse, who was preening on his best friend's behalf (he was Nia's familiar rather than her pet – those are two very different things), looked at Mister Tumnus, who looked blank.

"I'm sure a lot of young women resemble Queen Swanwhite in Nia's world," Mister Tumnus said.

"Well then, she's from the other side of the War Drobe, in the world of Spare Oom?"

"I beg your pardon?" Toulouse was rather bewildered. "We came from England!"

"And where's England?" One of the Dryads asked.

"I suppose it's the same country where Their Majesties (whoever they are) came from."

"Oh, that England… And speaking of Their Majesties, they're growing up beautifully, aren't they? The High King is especially desirable, but his brother's growing up very handsome as well! And Queen Susan's very beautiful – almost everyone wants to marry her. Her sister's only ten, but is a very charming girl… The High King has a soft spot for her because she's youngest."

Toulouse, clever cat he is, had no idea that this Queen Susan the Gentle was Susan Pevensie, Nia's closest human friend back in Finchley.

* * *

King Peter was losing his temper fast. It seemed like weeks since he'd slept at all, and his enemies had surrounded him: the rebel factions in the North, and the Calormenes in the South. He was only sixteen after all (**AN: **_Although in our world, he was only a year older than Nia and Susan, here, a year has passed since their coronation. Nia, who entered the Trunk a nanosecond later, emerged into Narnia a year since that coronation and had not aged a year in the land yet)_ and had his bursts of temper.

Now, his advisers were being their tight-assed, arrogant, selves, thinking him inexperienced in the arts of war… Mister Tumnus and Beaver, who were his closest advisers, were out. Mister Beaver's scouting party was ambushed two weeks ago, and he was still recuperating in Beaversdam. And Mister Tumnus… Where was he? He needed at least one of them beside him to keep him from flinging that whiny Leopard into the Great Eastern Sea.

He took a brief stroll just to relax, and found herself in the Hall of Kings (and Queens), where portraits of past Kings and Queens hung. There was King Frank and Queen Helen… King Gale… And last was King Thorn and his Queen, Swanwhite the Fair, whose beauty made any reflective surface she looked into show her image for a year.

There was something about Swanwhite that drew him to the painting… Her face seemed so familiar… So dear to him. He was not falling for a painting. Definitely not! It was just that he knew someone who had the same eyes (and nose, lips, chin, and cheeks, but with a different face shape and complexion)… The same beautiful, coffee-colored eyes… But he couldn't remember who that person was, and he didn't have the luxury of time to think more on the matter. For him and his siblings, the past was a hazy dream. And they were too busy to ponder over dreams.

But Swanwhite's eyes had a calming effect on him… Not because they were very beautiful (well, they were) but because they also belonged to a person he loved dearly. But holding on to dreams is like trying to hold on to water with your bare hands… They just trickle out.

* * *

"Whoa," Nia said, gazing at the castle that stood on top of the cliff, awed by its magnificence. "This is Cair Paravel? It's even grander than in my imagination." The sun had already set when they reached the great castle.

"It was home," Toulouse said, gazing balefully at her.

"It's not home," Nia said, more to herself than to the cat. "Well, it was home for you, Tou, but that was before the Great Winter. Now, we're guests here… And please do remind me not to wander into the Hall of Kings."

"What use will it be? You'll wander off there, anyway. Lena was never much a wanderer, and only did so because she had to. But you… You always wander off!"

"It's one of my Dad-given traits," Nia laughed. Indeed, her father was a known wanderer, always curious of his surroundings. Nia was proud she'd inherited something from him. In fact, her being a bookworm was also "Dad-given," but her imagination and faith in whatever there is to believe came from her Mum.

The entire castle seemed to be built entirely of marble… As they entered the entrance hall, Nia felt the magnitude of the castle crushing her… She felt so small, so insignificant. Her father's estate in Kent had a similar effect, only this was far greater.

They walked past several doors ("Narnian oak," Toulouse whispered. "You'll never find wood as sturdy as that anywhere on Earth.") and several corridors. They climbed up a grand marble staircase and walked past more corridors and hallways.

"Where are the people?" Nia whispered to Mister Tumnus. The castle was well lit, but the absence of living things apart from themselves and the hugeness of the castle were making her jittery.

"Their Majesties are probably in War Council," Mister Tumnus whispered back. "They're in King Peter's conference room right now. Those Calormene blighters must are very tricky, you know… Somehow, they found out that we're sending a small scout party to Archenland two weeks ago, and managed to ambush it. Mr. Beaver. A very good friend of mine, was wounded…"

"Maybe someone tipped them off," Nia said.

"Maybe. But there's none I could think off who'd sell Narnia to Calormen!" Mister Tumnus's tone was quite indignant, so Nia let the matter drop, although she still thought about it from time to time in the days afterwards

They walked past halls and doors. It was dark, anyway, so Nia couldn't examine the paintings and the architecture of Cair Paravel – Mister Tumnus said there would be time for it the next day.

Finally, they stopped on front of twin oak doors.

"The Conference Room," Mister Tumnus said. "Not as large nor as majestic as the throne room on the other side of the castle facing the sea, but it still is awe-inspiring.

"I couldn't hear a thing from the inside," Nia commented.

"King Gale, who was King before his son, Thorn, ascended the throne, made sure the room was sound-proofed," Toulouse explained. They'd agreed not to mention any of the ancient monarchs as Nia's ancestors before leaving Mister Tumnus's home. Nia was pleased that her friends were honoring this agreement.

Mister Tumnus reached for a large bronze knocker hanging from a woodcut of a lion's face ("Aslan, this is," Toulouse muttered) and rapped it against the wooden doors slowly four times.

The door opened to reveal a centaur, who closed the door behind him. Nia had never seen a centaur before, and was staring shamelessly at this one.

"Mister Tumnus," said the centaur.

"Oreius," the Faun replied. "I apologize for my delay."

"It is alright, although Their Majesties are worried."

"Nia, Toulouse, I'd like to introduce you to Oreius, Commander the High King's army. Oreius, this daughter of Eve is Nia Evenshire of Kent, and this Talking Beast is Toulouse."

"It is my pleasure to be acquainted with your noble presences," the centaur said, bowing deeply. It was true. Oreius sensed deep magic within those two. Toulouse seemed very wise, and the girl Nia had no airs about her, but Oreius sensed the blood of the ancient Kings. And then, he felt Aslan's presence. The Lion was watching Toulouse and Nia. Oreius was sure of it.

"We're pleased to meet you too, Mister Oreius," the Nia said, curtsying. "How do you do?"

"Not so well, I'm afraid," the centaur said, put to ease by Nia's friendly voice. "We're almost at war and there are rebels in the North."

"I'm sure you'll make it," Nia said. "I mean, you did defeat the White Witch."

"Thank you," said Oreius. "Would you like to meet Their Highnesses? All four of them are in here."

"Yes, please do," said Nia, and her companions couldn't help but be infected by her eagerness.

Oreius opened the door, and they all filed in. Nia's jaw dropped as she took in the chandeliers, the marble pillars, and the magnificent murals… There were also several Talking Beasts… Leopards, monkeys, eagles, panthers, lions…

"Oh my Lord," Toulouse muttered, looking ahead.

Ahead, there were four chairs, all grand looking. They weren't thrones. But the four people sitting on them made Nia give a start.

At first, she didn't recognize them, but as she scrutinized, she realized that these people wearing beautiful crowns on their heads were her childhood friends, the Pevensies. The smallest, with her hair grown long ang curled, was Lucy. The last time Nia saw her was when she was just five years old. She'd grown so much. And Edmund was turning out to be good-looking, and he didn't wear the perpetually sulky expression he used to wear. And Susan… Her beauty was classic. Her shiny black locks cascaded down to her waist, and her pale blue eyes glittered in the light.

Then, she turned her gaze to the High King, who was admonishing Mister Tumnus for being late. It was Peter, alright. He was still the same, although he'd grown very very tall, his physique appeared strong (but now overly muscular), his features became manlier, and he had that noble, regal air about him. Nia clutched Toulouse close to her chest. It was all she could do to stop from swooning at the sight of the boy she had a crush on.

"I apologize for the trouble, Your Majesties," Mister Tumnus's voice pulled her back to the present. "I'd like you to meet my friend, Nia, who has somehow found her way from your world to Narnia." He pulled her beside him, in front of her old friends.

"We're very honored to meet you, Milady," said Peter. Nia stared at him, and then at his siblings.

"Don't you remember me?" she burst out. The Pevensies looked at each other, and then shook their heads. "I'm Nia, remember? Your…"

"We apologize, Lady," said Susan, her eyes filled with pity. "We've never met you before."

"But – but," Nia stammered. Her heart was breaking with every word they speak

"Look," said Peter, "we'll talk about this in the morning. Forgive us, Milady. You may have confused us with other people you've known. But in the meantime, you can stay here in Cair Paravel. Mister Tumnus, could you please escort her to one of our guest rooms?"

"I'm very sorry, Your Majesties," Nia said, keeping her voice steady and curtsying. "I may have been mistaken. And thank you for your hospitality." Then, she went out of the Conference Room, with Toulouse in her arms and Mister Tumnus in tow.

* * *

Peter felt sad for Nia. He wished he could do something to help her find her friends, but right now, there were more urgent matters to take care of. That arrogant Leopard stood up again, and presented his battle plan. Battles were Peter's specialty, and he listened carefully to the Leopard's plan. But then, he couldn't stop thinking of the girl whose eyes implored him to remember her…

Edmund decided he would have to talk to Nia later. He was the Just King, after all. And she knew them. Peter was a fool to think he should wait until morning before talking to her… Edmund liked her. She seemed nice and smart, and was a beauty as well. Aslan knows how tired they all were of these wars and rebellions. Edmund was itching for intelligent conversation on literature, or even have someone tell him a bedtime story, childish as it seems. Somehow, this girl seemed to him like an older sister. He'd apologize and ask her to tell him a story…

Susan's mind wasn't in the Conference Room at the moment. She was wandering off. She was sorry for Nia and yet, there was nothing she could do for her, except be her friend. Susan needed someone to talk to who was her age. And she felt Nia would make a good conversationalist. And if they'd been friends before, Susan swore she'd make it up to her.

And Lucy… Well, all Lucy could think of right now was a story about a girl and her dog, who was sucked into a tornado and landed in a strange but beautiful land, befriended a scarecrow, a tin man, and a lion, killed two Wicked Witches, and met a Wizard named Oz…

* * *

"They were your friends before they came through the Wardrobe, then" Mister Tumnus said, looking at her sadly as they made their way to her room. "I really am very sorry, Nia. They can't remember anything of their lives before coming here."

Nia and Toulouse kept quiet. Nia didn't trust herself to speak. She didn't cry in front of people. She never did, not counting her tantrums after her Mum announced that they were to leave for America. She knew that if she speaks, she'd only cry and wouldn't be able to speak, anyway. And she didn't think crying was enough to alleviate the despair she felt at the moment. Apparently, it wasn't enough that she lost her parents in one go. She had to lose her friends in on go, too. Life was so unfair.

They reached her bedroom. It was large, and looked as if it was made for a Queen. There was a large canopy bed with dark blue velvet drapings. She sat on it. It was very soft, and she wanted to throw herself in it and cry her eyes out. But first, Mister Tumnus had to get out.

"If you need me, I'll be in the room at the first floor," Mister Tumnus said, giving her the directions to his room downstairs. Then, with a last pitying look at her, he closed the door behind him.

Nia slipped off her sandals, curled up on her bed, and burst into tears.

**END OF CHAPTER**

* * *

**_AN: So, how'd you like that? Please RnR! I really promise the adventure begins next chapter._**


	4. Night Wanderers

**_AN: Thanks a lot for all the reviews! It really meant a lot to me :sniffs:_**

**_Disclaimer: All of the characters found in the Chronicles of Narnia belong to C.S. Lewis. The Wizard of Oz belongs to L. Frank Baum. The rest are mine. This is an AU of HHB, and Bree looks quite different._**

* * *

**CHAPTER 4: _Night Wanderers_**

"I can't stay here, Tou," Nia said half an hour later, when she'd exhausted her tears.

"And where, may I ask, are you going?" Toulouse asked. "There are marauding enemies about."

"I don't know," Nia said, getting her old clothes out of her bag and headed for the adjoining bathroom to dress. "All I know is, if I stay here, I'll go nuts. I'm not meant for Cair Paravel, Toulouse."

They both kept quiet, and when Nia came out of the bathroom, she was already decked in her English clothes. She folded up her gown and arranged the bed.

"The Dryads know us," Nia said. "They'll keep me safe for a while. Besides, there are a lot of Talking Beasts in the woods. They all seem humane, anyway. Oh, don't look at me like that, Tou. I know I'm leaving because Peter and the others didn't recognize me, and I'm hurting and all that. I know I'm crazy for doing this at these troubled times, but I can't stand being here."

"It was worse than that," Toulouse conceded. "They don't remember you… Us! I'm not surprised if they can't remember their parents as well."

"I haven't forgotten Mum and Dad, Tou." She looked for a piece of parchment, a quill, and an inkpot, and found those in the drawer of an elegant desk beside the bed.

"What are you doing?" Toulouse asked as Nia began to write.

"I have to write to Mister Tumnus. We can't just go without leaving him a note. That would be ungrateful, after all the things he did for us."

Toulouse shrugged. Nia got a brush from the desk, brushed her hair, and fastened a lock of her hair back with a clip. "You look like you're going to school."

"I suppose I am," Nia forced a smile as she went to the wardrobe to get a cloak.

"If we're running away and you don't want Peter and the rest to know where we are, why the heck are we going to involve the Dryads?"

Nia looked at him. "We? I had the impression you wanted to stay…"

"Oh, Nia," said Toulouse, "I'm Toulouse, your best friend! Your self-appointed guardian! Did you really think I'd let you go on this wild adventure alone?"

* * *

Nia slipped a letter under the door of Mister Tumnus's bedroom – she could hear him snoring – and made her way out of the castle with Toulouse leading her in the dark. They made it to the beach. Nia looked back for a moment to admire the way the moon's rays struck the palace, and then plunged into the forest.

* * *

Peter made his way to the Hall of Kings, holding candelabra. He had to see Queen Swanwhite's eyes again. He stopped in front of her painting and looked at it for a while. He needed her soothing gaze… The girl in the Conference Room had awakened in him feelings he never knew existed. He was drawn to Nia, and he had no idea who she was. Maybe she really had been in friend.

Peter looked at Swanwhite's eyes again. As he did, something strange happened… It was as if the hallway around him was melting… Even the painting. He tried to scream, but he couldn't. And then…

_"Dorothy lived Kansas," the girl with tangled brown hair and beautiful brown eyes said to the four siblings sitting in front of her, "with her Aunt Em and her Uncle Henry, who was a farmer, and her dog, Toto…"_

_"Where's Kansas?" Edmund interrupted rudely. They were in Lucy's bedroom, listening to a bedtime story._

_"Kansas is a place in America," the girl replied. "Now, Kansas is a dull, dreary place. It was all gray – even the inhabitants were gray. Only Dorothy was another color. Her eyes sparkled. She was the joy of her Aunt Em, who'd been a pretty bride once when she was young, but the dreariness of Kansas had removed the sparkle in her long ago._

_"Now, one day, there was a cyclone. As her Aunt and Uncle prepared to hide the animals, Dorothy remained in the house. The storm struck."_

_"What's a cyclone?" Peter glared at Edmund. Why did he have to keep on interrupting, anyway?_

_"A cyclone's a large, funnel-shaped wind-form. It's a form of a waterspout, only in air. And the strongest ones often wipe out cities." She didn't seem to mind the interruption. Susan and Lucy were gazing at her, enraptured_

_"Oh."_

_"The cyclone lifted up the house, higher and higher and higher," said the girl, her voice excited, "and carried it over countries and deserts and mountains… Until it crash landed in some place."_

_"Ouch," Susan winced._

_"Dorothy wasn't hurt," the girl assured her. "Now, when she opened the door, she was surprised to see herself in a very beautiful country. Lush vegetation, blue skies, you name it!"_

_"She's in Oz!" the Pevensies exclaimed._

_"Yes, she's in Oz. And that's where the adventure begins…"_

Peter was back in Cair Paravel, in the Hall of Kings. He was still Peter the Magnificent. Only this time, he remembered everything. He remembered his Mum, his Dad, the Professor, Mrs. MacReady… He remembered her, his bestfriend, the girl with whom he had a crush on when he was still a boy back in Finchley.

"Nia," he whispered, and gazed once more at Swanwhite's portrait. "She's here…" Then, he realized what he'd done earlier, and sprinted off to the direction of Nia's bedroom.

He knocked on the door. "Nia? It's me, Peter. I'm so sorry about earlier… Please, forgive me." No answer. He knocked again. And again. And again. "Are you alright?"

"She's not there, Peter," Susan said from behind him. He turned around and saw his siblings and Mister Tumnus looking very worried. The Faun was clutching a letter and was very white indeed.

"Where is she?" Peter demanded. "We know her, Su…"

"We know," Edmund cut in. "I mean, we all had the sensation of the castle melting and Nia telling a story…"

"The Wizard of Oz!" Lucy chimed in. It had been her favorite too.

"Well, when we came back here," said Susan, "we suddenly remembered our… our past. Nia's our friend, Pete… I've no idea how she came to Narnia, but Peter…"

Peter opened the door to Nia's room. It was unlocked. The bedroom looked as if no one had actually stayed there. The sheets were tucked in, the pillows straightened… The only change in the room was a midnight blue dress folded neatly on the bed and a pair of leather sandals on the floor below it.

"She's gone," said Susan quietly. "She ran away… She even wrote Mister Tumnus a letter!"

The Faun handed him the letter, trembling violently. Peter read aloud the letter, written in a neat, simple handwriting.

_Dear Mr. Tumnus,_

_If you're reading this, it means I've actually run away. I really am sorry if I'm causing you so much worry by leaving. But don't worry. Toulouse and I will be all right. Really – I can already see your eyebrows rising in skepticism, you know._

_I suppose you're wondering why on earth would I risk my life to leave the safety of Cair Paravel and run into whoever and whatever. I suppose I'm chasing ghosts… or running away from them. Maybe I'll tell you once we meet again. I'm positive we will. Maybe here, maybe in some other place. And if - _here, there were words which had been heavily crossed out_ - Their Majesties or any of the cooks notice anything missing in their food supply, please don't tell them I've stolen two loaves of bread and two bottles of water… They might execute me for stealing, you know… Just joking. I know Aslan's watching over me, so don't fret. Wish you all the luck in your war!_

_I'll miss you!_

_With love from,_

_Nia (and Toulouse)_

* * *

Nia and Toulouse felt like they've been walking for hours. The forest was scary. Very scary. Add that to the eerie chirping of the crickets and other sounds. Nia's imagination was in overdrive. Images of vampires and werewolves kept appearing in her mind. She was starting to wish she hadn't run away…

But she had no idea where they were now. She cursed herself. But then, Toulouse was Narnian. Maybe he knew where they were. The thought brought a ray of hope to Nia.

"Where to now?" Toulouse asked, stopping a meter ahead.

"I dunno," said Nia. "Where are we, anyway?"

"I don't know."

"Dang it!" Nia bit her lip. It wasn't exactly becoming of her to swear, but she did learn some curses from her male cousins in Virginia, and she felt like using one of the worst ones now. She felt accursed. "Why did we ever enter the trunk in the first place?"

"Well, would you rather have been skinned alive by that horrid old hag MacReady?"

Nia didn't answer, but her mind was screaming, "Yes! I would gladly be skinned alive rather than be here, with friends who don't even have a clue who I am."

There was rustling among the bushes. Someone else was with them. Nia froze and pressed herself against a tree. She was lucky she thought of bringing with her a dark, hooded cloak, which was in a wardrobe in her room in Cair Paravel. It helped her conceal herself from the trees and from marauding Calormenes.

A young man of average height then appeared. "I know you're there," he said. Nia couldn't see very well in the dark.

He's just a kid, Nia realized. His voice wasn't matured yet, but it was maturing.

"Please, do come out. You're in danger here, do you realize that?" His voice had dropped into a whisper. "Follow me." He turned around and disappeared among the trees. Toulouse sprang up from where he'd been hiding and motioned for Nia to follow the boy. So they did, taking care not to run into him, but keeping him in their line of sight. Or at least, Toulouse kept the boy in his sight, and Nia tried to keep Toulouse in her sight. It was all very quiet, since they were all used to sneaking around.

After several leagues of walking, they reached some sort of outcropping of rock. Toulouse and Nia watched from where they stood at the edge of the woods as the boy walked to the rock and slid back what seemed like a door.

"It's a cave," Nia whispered.

"I know what it is… Look, he's motioning for us to follow him!"

Making sure no one caught sight of them, the girl and her cat rushed into the cave, and boy closed its entrance behind him. Nia removed her cloak

The cave was rather small (for a cave, anyway, which means it's still as large as a hut) and well lit. Inside, there was a bonfire, and beside it was a horse. It was the most beautiful horse Nia had seen… A pure black color, strong looking, with long, slender legs. It reminded her of those Andalusian horses her father used to keep back in Kent, only this one was more majestic. She stared in awe.

"What are you staring at?" the horse said in a rich baritone.

"Did you just speak?" Nia asked, her eyes wide.

"Of course he did," the boy said the boy from behind her. Nia turned around. In this light, she could see that the boy was her age, maybe a year older. He was rather handsome, with dark brown hair and piercing gray-blue eyes and chiseled features. But he was no Peter. He had no air of command. In fact, Nia thought this boy was a peasant of some sort. He was dressed in dirty clothes, but his horse… Where did he get a horse like that? "He's a genuine Narnian Talking Beast. Right, Bree?"

"Aye," said the horse. "My name's Breehy-hinny-brinny-hoohy-hah. Or Bree for short. Honestly, you humans can't even pronounce our proper names right! You force us to adopt nicknames!" He wasn't indignant at this though. In fact, Nia liked him. He seemed very friendly, but very brave as well.

"How do you do?" Nia said. She didn't know if elocutions are supposed to be applied in the face of a Beast so magnificent. "I'm Nia Evenshire."

"Just Nia, then? You humans have such short names. But I expect that's just because your tongues get so tied up you can't even say long names."

"Actually, it's Narnia. Nia for short."

"It's a beautiful name," the boy said. "You're named after the country, then?"

"I suppose so, but I'm not actually around from here."

"Yes," said the horse, eyeing her clothes. "We can sort of see that. You look _out of this world!_"

"I'm Cor," said the boy, bowing to her. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Nia."

"Nice to meet you too, Cor."

"Let's not forget the cat, shall we?" Toulouse said, speaking up indignantly. "I'm Toulouse."

"He's my familiar," Nia explained, "and my traveling companion."

"Hey, so are we," said Cor. "We're traveling as well."

"Or hiding," the horse said, his voice taking on a gloomy tone.

"But what brings a young lady and a noble feline to the woods in the dead of the night? Calormene spies are rampant in the woods nowadays."

"We're running away," Toulouse answered for Nia, who glared at him. "It's a long and convoluted story, and it's rather painful to discuss, but maybe we can share the story some other time."

"I understand," said Cor with a rather bitter smile. "Ours is a painful story too, but I don't mind sharing with you some of it."

"We're from Archenland," said Bree.

"I thought you're Narnian," Toulouse remarked.

"I am, but was befriended by this boy when we were younger… Those were troubled times, and the Great Winter was upon Narnia. Many of the Talking Beasts fled South, and Archenland offered her protection. Needless to say, I didn't return to Narnia the moment the Great Winter ended. I came here with Cor."

"We're also running away," Cor said. "I'm sure you've already heard that Calormen has captured Anvard and conquered Archenland?" Nia nodded. "Well, I was at Anvard during the time of that treacherous surprise attack. I say treacherous because they haven't even declared war… They just attacked. I survived that, and Bree and I escaped to Narnia."

"We wouldn't have been able to make it if it weren't for that lion who chased us through the pass and into the Southern Woods," said Bree. "He gave me such a fright – he was so large a lion, I've never seen one as huge. He also kept snapping at my heels… But now that I think of it, I think the lion was trying to help us elude the Calormenes. I've never run so fast in my entire life!"

"Maybe that lion was Aslan," Nia mused. "I mean, isn't he like the _deux ex machina,_ or something?" Bree looked at her as if he'd just realized something. Cor appeared to be deep in thought… His mind didn't seem to be anywhere near the cave at all!

Maybe he lost a lot of loved ones during the attack at Anvard, Nia said to herself.

Nothing more was said that night. Cor motioned for her to prepare her bed using some of the straw stacked on the corner, which she did. Toulouse curled up beside her and she covered them both with her cloak just as Cor extinguished the flames and the coldness of the cave suddenly engulfed them.

* * *

Nia couldn't sleep. She kept thinking of the Pevensies, Peter especially. She remembered the puzzled expression on Lucy and Edmund's faces… The pitying look on Susan's… And Peter… He didn't want to hurt her; she'd read it in his face. But he ended up doing so, anyway.

"It's not their fault," Nia whispered to herself. "They're just suffering from amnesia brought about by God-knows-what. Besides, they couldn't exactly be expected to remember a friend they've lost contact with." The last sentence contained a tinge of bitterness. But the sound of her own voice, however soft, was quite comforting. Her desire to ransack the cave abated.

She wasn't exactly angry with the Pevensies… But she was more than hurt. Her world was falling apart. Her parents were gone. England was gone. And now, the Pevensies were gone… Su was gone, and so was Lu and Ed, and… Nia furiously wiped a tear… even Peter was gone.

But what would Mummy Lena do? Her world had also fallen apart when the White Witch wiped out her family and she was unceremoniously banished to England. She had been in this situation before…

"Mum," Nia whispered in a rather choked voice, "please help me…"

"Ah!" A rather pained moan sounded throughout the Cave.

Nia sat up and looked around. Who was that? She looked at Bree's magnificent flanks, and beyond. Cor was writhing on his straw bed, mumbling something… A name, it seemed. She looked at Toulouse's sleeping form beside her. He was dead to the world.

"A… Aravis…" he breathed.

She got up, moved to Cor's side, and shook him roughly. "Wake up!" she hissed. "You're dreaming!"

Cor immediately sat up, all clammy and sweaty.

"Are you okay?" Nia whispered. "You seemed to be having a nightmare…"

"I'm alright," Cor answered a little too quickly for Nia to believe him.

"You're not," Nia said firmly. "You were saying something… Aravish?"

"Did I really?" Nia couldn't see well – it was dark inside the cave – but his voice sounded horrified.

"You did. Now, who is this Avarish person? Or is it a race? Or a country? I'm not familiar with these lands…"

"Go to sleep," Cor said, his voice sounded a little too harsh.

"Tell me who Aravish is first."

"Go to sleep now," for a moment there, Cor sounded like a King. "I swear on my honor that I will tell you more when morning comes. I suppose I'll have to tell your cat too, now that you know."

I don't know anything, Nia thought, frustrated, as she crept back to her bed. Not a single, bloody thing…

She went back to her makeshift bed and her thoughts began to take over her senses again. But they weren't about the Pevensies. It was about Cor, and something Mister Tumnus had told her on the way to Cair Paravel. Something about a missing Prince… Cor definitely wasn't who he seemed to be. Nia realized she might have had a glimpse of the true Cor a few moments earlier.

Could it be, that Cor was the Crown Prince of Archenland? Nia said to herself. Oh, Lord, I don't know a single, bloody thing at all…

* * *

"There's no news of her, Your Majesties," Oreius said the following morning to Queen Susan and Queen Lucy. Peter and Edmund were still out, scouring the country for any signs of Nia or Toulouse. They were up all night, the boys with their search parties, and the girls anxiously waiting for any news of their friend.

"But what about Peter and Edmund?" Susan asked. Beside her, Lucy was busy chewing her fingernails. Not even Susan had the heart to stop her, what with all the worrying and guilt feeling.

"They're still searching. The High King is particularly desperate…"

Only Peter, Edmund, Mister Tumnus, and a handful of trusted centaurs were part of the search. They decided to keep this a secret to the Council. It was bad enough they belittled them so… How would they react if they discovered the girl last night really was Their Majesties' closest friend back in their world?

Besides, Edmund had the nagging feeling, ever since the Beaver's party had been ambushed, that there was a traitor in their midst. Mister Tumnus admitted he never had the idea, but Nia did. If the enemy found out they were searching for her, she would be on the Calormene search list too, like Prince Cor. Peter was more horrifed at the thought of Nia at the hands of Calormenes than any of them.

"Oh, Nia," Susan said softly. "Why did you run away? I'm so sorry…we all are…"

* * *

Peter wiped sweat from his forehead as he made his way back to Cair Paravel. There was no news of Nia. It seemed as if she just vanished out of thin air.

Or was captured by Calormenes or rebels. No… He couldn't bear the very idea of the Calormenes touching Nia with their evil, treacherous hands. He had to find her soon. He had to know she was safe.

"Oh, come on, Peter, you need rest," Edmund, who was riding on his horse Philip, chided. "We'll look for her again tomorrow. We still have to face the War Council, you know. This is supposed to be top secret from them."

"What if the Calormenes find her?" Peter asked, his voice full of despair. "What if the rebels find her?"

"Aslan won't let anything happen to her, brother," said Edmund in a voice, which Peter supposed, was meant to comfort him, though the Just King couldn't hide the worry in his voice. "Aslan will protect her."

**END OF CHAPTER**

* * *

**_AN: So how did you like that? Go on, click the purple button. Again, thanks a lot for all the reviews!_**


	5. Plans and Pleas

_**Disclaimer: **Everything belongs to C.S. Lewis except Nia, Toulouse, Helaena, Aunt Maeve... This is a HHB AU, but I will still be using characters from the books (such as Cor, Aravis, Hwin, Bree, and the Hermit)._

**CHAPTER 5: _Plans and Pleas_**

What would Helaena Evenshire do? Nia mused to herself as she lay down in bed, trying very hard to sleep. It was still dark, although she was sure it was already morning. Mummy Lena lost a lot more than Nia did; she lost her parents, her family, her friends, her world… And yet she managed to start a new life, in a very graceful manner too! It was a pity she never had the chance to ask her Mum what it was like, to start again, to live in a new world, knowing you can never go back to where you came from… Knowing there's no one waiting for you there anymore. Nia wanted to know what to do.

Lena wouldn't depress herself by dwelling so much on the past. She'd think of them from time to time, yes. But she wouldn't imprison herself in memories. She would concentrate on the task at hand and not let her past distract her.

And Nia resolved to emulate her mother. She knew it would be difficult not to think of her parents, the Pevensies, and her world. But she'd get used to it. She would never dwell on them again. Not much, anyway. From now on, she would slowly ease herself out of any emotional attachment Peter and his siblings had on her. And by doing so, she would free herself from the pain she was feeling. Or alleviate it somehow, anyway.

Besides, she needed to help Cor. She sensed something big was going on, though she couldn't put her finger in it. But if Cor really were the Crown Prince of Archenland, maybe she'd have a hand at putting him on the throne! Cor obviously did not want his real identity, whatever it is, be known.

Nia respected that – she didn't want her real standing be known either. She was supposed to be a Princess, being the last Princess of Narnia's daughter. But she was an adventurer first. Princesses whine whenever their beautiful gowns get dirty, or whenever they have a bad hair day. Besides, people often think Princesses are extremely delicate creatures. Therefore, members of the opposite gender go out of their way to be nice and all gentlemanly and chivalrous. Princesses can't do all the fun stuff, like hiking, or sword fighting, or any of the things Princes and Kings (and sometimes, Queens) do. And Nia was fond of those. Or would like to have a hand at doing those things, anyway.

Besides, Nia had the feeling that Cor was a sexist. Not an out and out male chauvinist swine, maybe, but still a Knight of Male Sovereignity.

And she was determined to prove him wrong.

* * *

"So, who's Aravish?" Nia asked the a few hours later. It was already about seven or nine in the morning, judging from the light pouring from small airholes dotting the walls of the cave. Cor and the others were sitting around the remains of last night's bonfire, apparently waiting for her.

"Bring out the bread, Nee," Toulouse said from his position. "We're positively ravenous!"

"And you'll finish off all the food we have?" Nia raised an eyebrow, positioning herself between Bree and Toulouse. "I don't think so. I think we can do with one loaf this morning."

"What about lunch?" Cor asked.

"We're going to have to hunt, or pick fruits. Whichever. We can't go on living on bread alone. And the bottles of water I brought won't last the night if we don't fill it up with water from a nearby stream. And I'm worried about marauding Calormenes."

"We'll worry about that later," said Toulouse. "Besides, we're not going to stay here. Not for long, anyway."

"What do you mean?"

"You asked me about Aravis – no H at the end, Nia – and now, I'm going to answer your questions," Cor said. "And we're leaving by nightfall, if you're not squeamish."

"I'm not squeamish," Nia said indignantly. "You saw me tramping about in the dark, haven't you? But what has this got to do with Aravis?"

"Well, when we escaped Anvard, there was a girl with us," said Cor. "She was the daughter of one of the Tarkhaans who conquered Anvard and was with them during the campaign as a nurse, but during the attack, I suppose she was struck by a sudden realization that what they're doing was evil. She snuck into the city to warn us… She was a bit too late, but she managed to save me, all the same. We got two horses from the stables – Bree and a mare named Hwin."

"So, this Aravis is a Calormene noblewoman," Nia said.

"Yes," Cor said with a bitter laugh. "She may not be the best traveling companion – she's a Tarkheena after all – but she's very kind. She may be haughty, but that's all for show, anyway. She's a very brave young woman, and very loyal to her principles…"

Nia judged, from the look on Cor's eyes, that he was in love with this Aravis Tarkheena, and felt a pang of jealousy. Not that she liked Cor romantically, but she wished Peter would look like that at her. Then, she wondered how the Pevensies were doing. By now, Mister Tumnus would have read her letter. Had he told Peter? Were they searching for her?

But no… Why would they? It's not as if she still mattered to them. Besides, haven't they got more important things to do, like prepare for war?

"So, we were picking fruits one night for dinner," Cor was saying. "There are Calormene spies around, you know, so it's very dangerous to wander about. Well, we heard Aravis scream and Hwin neigh, so we made our way to them. You can imagine our despair when we saw three Calormenes tying her up and leading Hwin away from the spot. We followed them up to their camp some leagues south of here. It was a few days ago. I want to rescue her, Nia. They're going to execute her for treachery!"

Nia couldn't help but be infected by the despair and longing in Cor's voice. "Is she still in the camp?"

"Yes," Bree answered for Cor, who was could speak no further. "They're going to bring her to Anvard next week so they can behead her…"

"That's horrible!"

"I know," Bree said. "We have to rescue her… We owe her our lives, Nia."

"Why don't you ask King Peter for help?" Nia asked. "I mean, we are in Narnia after all, and this is their territory…"

"We're too far from Cair Paravel," Cor said, his voice shaky. "And I don't know the way there. The forest's filled with spies, and I can't risk stumbling about, when I could be very well walking straight into the enemy's arms."

"I've no idea we walked that far."

"Narnian air does that to you," Toulouse said. "Besides, you're a pretty healthy girl to begin with."

"So, what's the game plan?" Nia asked. "How're we going to infiltrate camp?"

"Yes," Cor said, looking at Toulouse. "You were saying something, Toulouse?"

* * *

Peter stumbled blearily into his room. He was tired. He hadn't slept at all, and he had to sit through that awful meeting with his advisers. There was no Mr. Beaver to play chess with, and Mister Tumnus was scared for Nia. She simply vanished. The trees haven't seen her, and the Dryads have no idea where she could've gone.

And then Mister Tumnus tells him Nia had no idea where she could've gone herself, since she was relatively new to the country, having come there only a few days before. The Faun obviously knew more about Nia than Peter. The very idea made Peter flush with jealousy.

He sat up, went to the washroom, and washed his face, savoring the feel of the clean, cool water. He looked at his reflection in the mirror.

The face he saw there was almost like a stranger's face. The eyes, normally bright, were now red-rimmed and tired. His face looked drawn and haggard.

And then, he saw Nia's face appear in the mirror, gazing back at him. It wasn't the Nia who appeared in his dreams, young and excited, caught up in her dream world. It was the teenage Nia, tragically beautiful, whose eyes begged him to recognize her. He blinked, and the image of his best friend disappeared.

"Help her, Aslan," Peter said to the heavens above. "Please… I don't think I'll be able to bear it if something happens to her…"

* * *

"You mean, Aunt Lena's dead?" Susan asked Mister Tumnus incredulously. She and Lucy cornered the Faun on his way back to his room. "How did she die?"

"I've no idea," Mister Tumnus said. "Toulouse mentioned something about a 'car crash' in London two weeks prior her arrival here. Both her parents were killed. And then, there was something about political turmoil… It seems as if Nia's nobility in your world."

"The Duke of Kent is her dad," said Susan. "And he's dead, too?"

Mister Tumnus did not speak, worried about Nia.

"Poor Nia," Lucy said, tears spilling on her cheeks. "I don't think I'll ever be able to remain sane if my parents died and I wasn't at their side." Then as if struck by a sudden realization. "Su, what if Mum was killed in the Blitz? What if Dad was killed in the War?"

"Lucy!" Susan was shocked at this. Lucy was the most optimistic of the four Pevensies, and if she was ever gloomy, it meant they all had it bad. "Of course Mum and Dad are alive. They'll make it though the War. Trust me."

"It was a foolish thing to run away," said a voice from behind them. Edmund. "I mean, what with the sharks swimming around…"

"You can't judge her just because of that, Ed," Susan said sharply.

"I'm not judging her, Su," Edmund said. "I heard everything. And I say she cracked."

"You mean, she's gone crazy?" Susan couldn't believe Edmund could say those things.

"I'm not saying she's insane or anything. She acted on impulse. She had the impulse to run away, on the belief that she's not wanted here. I mean, how would you feel, Su, if you lose your parents and then lose your friends?"

"She did not lose us, Ed."

"She did. Temporarily at least, but she did. That was enough."

"I'd feel terrible," Lucy said, trembling.

"I'd go crazy," Susan admitted. "I'd never be able to handle it."

"You would, too," said Edmund, "but it's bound to be very difficult… Frankly, I don't blame her for reacting the way she did. It's perfectly ordinary. I just wish she'd turn up soon… We're all worried sick. And Peter looks sick."

"Who looks sick?" a voice said from behind them, commanding, full of authority.

"You do," said Susan, turning around to face his brother. Peter did look sick but still managed to somehow look handsome, however tragically. "Don't beat yourself up over her, Peter. She wouldn't like it."

"Mister Tumnus," said Peter, turning to the Faun, "please… I want to know everything you know about Nia…" His voice took on another tone, a tone of longing. "Please tell me everything about her."

Poor Mister Tumnus was placed in a greater predicament. He was a subject of the Pevensies, and therefore, subject to their wishes. But Nia Evenshire was his friend. He promised he wouldn't tell anyone she was Princess of Narnia and had a claim to the throne. He loved the Pevensies. Nia had grown on him. Which would he choose? The friendship of the Pevensies, or the friendship of Narnia Evenshire?

"Aslan help me," Mister Tumnus said, and burst into tears, much to the bewilderment of his masters.

* * *

Nia crouched low in the dark, waiting for the Calormene page to get back from getting water from a nearby stream. They'd all agreed to sit there like fools in the dark and wait for lone Calormene pages to ambush. Toulouse had gone into the camp a few hours before to get them some sort of skin dye so they could pretend to be dark-skinned, like Calormenes.

Toulouse suggested they pretend to be Calormene pages so they could enter the camp unsuspected and free Aravis and Hwin. Of course, they had some problems: they were fair-skinned, and they had no Calormene clothes.

The complexion problem was solved by Toulouse sneaking into the camp to steal some sort of lotion the Calormenes were, which dyes the skin a rich brown color. And the clothing problem was about to be solved by ambushing some pageboys and wearing their clothes.

"There's one," Toulouse hissed. The pageboy was with a Calormene knight. "No good. He's not alone."

There was a fleeting twinkle amongst the scrubs several meters away from them. The signal. Cor and Bree managed to get one.

"Lucky ducks," Nia muttered. Then, she felt something cold press the nape of her neck. She froze.

"Come with me and you won't get hurt, girl." The moment Nia heard the voce, she knew she was safe. The speaker sounded about eleven or twelve. She was fourteen. She had an advantage. Besides, Toulouse was hidden among the trees.

"Can I turn around?" Nia asked, allowing the haughtiness of a queen tinge her voice, stealthily palming a small rock. "I'm not used to this, you know…" She could see Toulouse winking at her, from where she crouched. "My back hurts… I need my handmaiden…"

"Could it be that this is the Gentle Queen, Susan?" The pageboy mused to himself, as if in a soliloquy. The boy had obviously never seen the Pevensies before. Why else could he have mistaken her for the beautiful Susan? "The Great Tisroc – may He live forever – will be pleased! And so will Prince Rabadash…"

The boy was lost in his fantasies of early knighthood and riches, the pressure of the blade on her neck lessened considerably. Nia, who was rather patient with him, swung around and hit his head with the stone. The pageboy crumpled to the ground.

"Oh dear," Nia whispered, and groped for the boy's pulse. It was strong. She never did a thing like hitting someone with a stone before. What if she killed him?

Toulouse came out of his hiding place, just as Cor and Bree appeared, their hostage with them. "Let's go!"

* * *

"This is crazy," Nia said, examining Cor. The two pageboys were unconscious, bound and gagged in a corner of the cave. She and Cor were dressed in the pageboys' clothes, and were smeared with that awful lotion. Nia tucked her hair in the helmet and brandished the curved scimitar the pageboys wore. It was strange, really. Nia was quite the swordsgirl in Virginia, but she was used to her Aunt Maeve's collection of straight swords.

"You look like a boy, Nia," Toulouse snickered. "Those Narnians'd kill you on the spot if they ever see you!"

"They won't see me," said Nia, "because I'm hiding. Do you know how hard it is to find someone who doesn't want to be seen, Tou?"

"Okay," said Cor, wanting to go over the plan again. "We go inside the camp and pretend to be these pageboys. I'm Shasta and you're Aladdin. I get Aravis, you get Hwin. Then, we meet at that great oak tree with the carved face one league south of the camp. From there, we make a mad dash to Archenland, probably to your friend, the Hermit, even though we're not sure he's still there…"

"One problem, though," said Nia. "Your eyes aren't brown. I'm sure every Calormene has brown or black eyes, and yours are a sort of gray-blue! They'll be upon you in a flash!"

"The lighting's pretty dim, anyway," said Cor. "Besides, it's not as if I'm going to look anyone in the face!"

"Really?" Nia asked doubtfully. Calormene knights struck her as the type who wanted to look at everyone in the face. And she couldn't risk losing Archenland their king, if Cor really was the Crown Prince. "Maybe I should get Aravis. I mean, that sort of task requires you to enter tents. The horses are simply tethered outside. It's less obvious if it's me who enters the tents, since my eyes are brown."

Cor nodded, as if beginning to see sense. "You're a girl! What if you get busted? They'll kill you on the spot! They won't care whether you're a girl or not… They're even executing their own Tarkheena! My conscience won't let me rest if they get to you." But Cor didn't sound like one of those annoyingly gallant knights who refused to let girls do anything because they're too pretty or delicate. He really sounded like a friend concerned with the safety of a friend.

"Don't worry, Cor," said Nia, touched by his concern. "I'm going to be fine." For the past two days, Cor had become her friend. And friends don't let friends go to their deaths… Especially if the fate of a kingdom rests on that friend's shoulders.

Besides, Nia would tell herself on the way to the camp, I'm expendable. It's not as if anyone's waiting for me here.

Cor wasn't convinced. For the past two days, Nia had become his friend too. He couldn't lose her. "But…" But he knew he couldn't die. If there were any remaining free people in Archenland, hoping to one day regain their kingdon, he knew he had to live for them.

Nia punched his arm playfully. "Race you!"

**END OF CHAPTER**

* * *

**AN: **_In this fanfic, Bree looks like Tornado in Zorro... I sort of like the idea of a black horse, anyway. And, in keeping with his character as Edmund the Just, I've made him deliberate on Nia's state of mind. Very Freudian I suppose, but there you go. RnR!_


	6. Narnia, the Calormene Pageboy

**Disclaimer: Everything seen in the CoN belong to C.S. Lewis. The rest are mine.**

**CHAPTER 6: _Narnia the Calormene Pageboy_**

The truth was, Nia didn't feel quite as brave as she showed Cor. As they neared the Calormene camp, she began to feel rather sick. Toulouse had gone ahead to search for the tent containing Aravis. He came back to report that the Tarkheena was very much alive, in a tent near the stables. She was all alone when he came, probably because it was time to change guards, and he'd made her aware of the plan to rescue her. It would be easy because she wasn't bound and gagged. Apparently, the Calormenes were spoiling her.

Fattening her up for the big kill, Nia said to herself.

Bree was waiting for them on the South side of the camp. He'd agreed to wait for her and the Tarkheena because he was the stronger horse and could carry two riders while running as fast as the wind. Meanwhile, Hwin, Aravis's horse, was an ordinary mail horse: speedy, but used to one passenger riding her at a time. They would meet her and Cor at the great Oak, and then gallop as fast as they could to Archenland.

Nia was secretly praying for Aslan's intervention. If the stories were true, then Aslan was like God here… Or maybe Aslan is God. Nia wasn't sure if the Narnians had any religion. Mister Tumnus believed in Aslan, though Nia'd never seen him pray.

Cor was a few meters behind her. They'd rushed back immediately from the cave, leaving the two pageboys behind. Nia had qualms about leaving them there, unconscious, to die of hypothermia.

"Oh, stop being squeamish, you," Cor had said. "We're going to light them a fire, okay? And leave them a bottle of water, if you want." Then, he went to build a bonfire for the Calormene pageboys, shaking his head and saying something that sounded a lot like, "Girls!"

Nia wanted to strangle him.

Two overly muscular guards guarded the entrance, and they eyed her menacingly.

"Pageboy," one of them said, shaking his head. Nia immediately imitated the accent in her mind.

"Why did we have to take them with us, anyway?" asked the other.

"Be off with you!" The first guard said to her. "Oh, wait… Get some food from the kitchen, and feed the treacherous Tarkheena. You know where her tent is, do you not?"

"Yes sir," said Nia in an improvised Calormene accent. It sounded vaguely Arabic. Nia had met some Arabs back in America. And why were those Calormenes ordering her, of all the people, to deliver Aravis's food? She couldn't believe her luck. There must've been a thousand pageboys there, and they give her the assignment. And she wasn't even Calormene, let alone a boy.

"Best make her healthy and happy before we sacrifice her to the Great Tash. General Khabir's nearly finished with the construction of a small temple near Anvard, you know. The Tarkheena will make a most fitting offering."

The guard said all these with a relish. Nia felt goosebumps all over her dyed skin. Back in our world, she'd heard of human sacrifices. But those were ancient history. Now, this girl, this Aravis, she must rescue from sacrifice. She briefly wondered if this Tash fellow would wreak his vengeance on her if she let his offering escape. But then, of course, Aslan would protect her.

Wouldn't he?

She bowed deeply, and the guards allowed her to pass. Toulouse was slinking around somewhere near.

The camp was fascinating, the tents richly decorated. There were banners showing the outline of some sort of bird. Probably Tash, Nia mused. Calormenes darted this way and that, and they were all sharpening their weapons, or exercising, or talking about the upcoming battle. Many times she heard Peter's name spoken with sneers. She wanted to hit the Calormene who said it, but she knew she shouldn't. Not that she could've won against those tall, heavily muscled Southerners.

Briefly, she saw Toulouse dart in front of her, motioning for her to follow him. He guided her to the food tent.

The Calormene cooks weren't pleased to see her there.

"What are you doing here, pageboy?"

"I'm getting food," said Nia. "For the treacherous Tarkheena."

"Why that traitor needs to be fed is beyond me," the chief cook, a rather large woman said. "For Tash's sake, why not behead her immediately and spare us the trouble?"

"I am just following orders, O Paragon of Spices."

The cooks looked even more menacing than the guards, if that were possible. Nia heaved a sigh of relief the moment she got out of the tent. But her load was heavy, her arms laden with a large tray full of sumptuous food she couldn't name.

She saw Toulouse dart unnoticed into a tent with two guards standing in front of it. She couldn't see Cor… He'd mingled with the Calormenes. She just had to meet him at the great Oak.

She passed around the tents rather slowly, hearing bits and pieces of conversation every now and then… The Camp was, too Nia, very exotic… Very _A Thousand and One Nights. _It was a pity she couldn't see more of the females. She supposed Aravis was very beautiful, like Scheherezade, or that princess in Aladdin. And Cor was Aladdin, come to rescue the princess from the evil sorcerer.

Or maybe Nia was Aladdin. She was here after all. She was the one actually rescuing the Tarkheena.

"The four monarchs are worried about something," she heard a voice say from the tent nearest to Aravis's. "I do not know what it is, but I suspect it is because of the girl who appeared at court a few nights ago."

Nia stopped short. Four monarchs? Could he mean the Pevensies?

"A girl?" the voice that answered the first was obviously Calormene.

"A girl who knew them," the first speaker clarified, "so obviously, she was someone important to them. Or had been important to them."

Nia's blood froze. They were talking about her. And this strange voice… The speaker obviously saw her.

And then, realization hit her like a bucket of ice cold water dumped over her head. She was right all along in her musings back in Cair Paravel. There was a spy in Peter's court. Someone was betraying the Pevensies, and here she was, witnessing the actual betrayal.

"Describe the girl," the Calormene ordered.

"My lord, she is very beautiful," said the spy. Nia couldn't see who it was. "With fair skin, though not as fair as the Queen Susan's, a perfectly oval face, curly brown hair, and the most beautiful eyes one could ever see…" Nia couldn't help but feel flattered. No one really complemented her before. Was she really pretty?

Wake up Narnia, she told herself firmly. You're an English girl with an agenda… Cut the daydreaming and get to work!

"Tall or short?"

"Average. For a female, anyway. About five feet four inches."

"Where is she now?"

"I do not know, my lord, but I have not seen her since that night. King Edmund and Queens Susan and Lucy are worried about something. And the High King looks rather drawn and tired, as if he did not have any sleep at all. This girl must have run away. I do not blame her, of course…"

They were looking for her! Nia felt a twinge of hope in her heart. Did they remember her? Or did Mister Tumnus create such a fuss? Maybe they were looking for her only out of moral obligation. Nia sincerely hoped it was the first. But there were other matters to take care of first. Like find out who this traitor was.

"Well then, we must find her. If she is not in Cair Paravel, she can be anywhere. But she is a woman, and will therefore be very easy to find. Females are no good at hiding, especially if she is as pretty as you say she is. And then, we will use her as hostage, a bargaining tool for the High King and his kin in exchange for the land of Narnia."

"I will try my best to obtain more information."

"Thank you very much, Jude," said the Calormene. "You did your best. And if they ever find out you're working for us and kill you, remember that you will have died in the service of Tash."

"Not to worry, sir," said the spy Jude. "I am a loyal servant of Tash and the Great Tisroc – may he live forever."

Then, the Calormene and the spy had some sort of toast. At least Nia thought it was, since she heard the clinking of glasses.

Nia hurried on to the Tarkheena's tent, thinking of a way to send a message to the Pevensies (anyone of them will do) about the traitor Jude.

Nia entered Aravis's tent in such a hurry she forgot to bow to the two guards and didn't notice Toulouse and the girl. Her head was full of questions. Were the Pevensies looking for her? Or were they worried about some other matters? And who's Jude? Why did he betray his masters? And what are the Calormenes up to?

She shuddered at the very idea of the Calormenes actually catching her. She'd never let Peter give up Narnia for her. No… She would never let herself be caught in the first place.

"Pssst," said the girl to her.

Nia jumped about a league up, and looked at the girl, seeing her properly for the first time.

The Aravis Tarkheena was very beautiful, a mixture of what looked like Arab and Hindu. But that wasn't possible, wasn't it? There were no Arabs and Indians in the world of Narnia.

Aravis was wearing a rich sari of orange and pink. She had thick black hair that shone in the lamplight – Susan would've died for Aravis's hair – and beautiful almond-shaped dark eyes. Her face had the look of nobility Nia lacked… High cheekbones, naturally tilted chin… And yet she managed to look her age, young, vigorous – she was roughly fourteen, the same age as Nia.

"Put the tray over there," Aravis whispered. Nia looked around warily for the guards. They were making loud noises, probably getting drunk. "You're the one supposed to help me, right?"

"Yes," said Nia. "Milady, Co…"

"Hush!" said Aravis. "The Lost Sheep is here as well?"

Nia wondered briefly who "Lost Sheep" was, but then figured out who the Tarkheena was talking about. "Well, yes, he got Hwin and made for…"

"Listen," Aravis drew out a small crystalline vial from her pocket. It was filled with clear liquid and was capped with a gemstone stopper. "This is a simple sleeping potion. I'm pretty sure the guards would ask for more wine. Make sure you slip this in the bottle, and they'll fall asleep for two hours without interruption. Or at least they should." Nia saw a cloud of doubt hang over Aravis's confident features.

"Okay." Nia made for the tent flap.

"And please get me some pageboy clothes," Aravis continued. "I can't escape in my sari, you know."

* * *

Edmund watched his brother warily as he discussed battle tactics with Oreius. Peter was relentless, working tirelessly twenty-four/seven. And now, he was searching for Nia as well. Knowing Nia's circumstances before coming to Narnia made the High King all the more worried about his old friend. She knew nothing about Narnia, save what Mister Tumnus had told her. Totally zero about geography.

"Sire, if we split our ranks here…" Oreius was saying, pointing at little flags on the battle map. Edmund was good at battle plans, so he decided to take over, letting Peter rest for a while.

If thinking of what could've happened to Nia Evenshire and coming up with the worst-case scenarios was what one could call resting. Peter tried valiantly to maintain his concentration on the upcoming battle, but somehow, Nia managed to worm herself into his mind.

What if Nia was caught by the Calormenes? Would they sacrifice her to their god, Tash? Would they enslave her? Would they make her the wife of their Prince Rabadash in Tashbaad?

What if Nia was out there in the North, freezing to death? What if the wolves and giants and boggles and dwarves caught her?

"I'm going for a walk," Peter said abruptly, standing up from his special chair. "Edmund, please take over for a while. And make sure neither Lucy nor Susan come here."

"As if I'm not taking over already," Edmund said at Peter's retreating back.

"Where's he going?" Lucy asked Susan as they crouched low, straining to hear everything from their spyhole.

"I don't know," said Susan, standing up and motioning for Lucy to do the same. "Let's follow him."

* * *

"Here sir," said Nia, offering a bottle of wine to the soldiers guarding Aravis. She dumped the whole vial in there. It was pretty late, and one by one, the soldiers and generals were tucking in. Nia was willing to bet these guads were eager to sleep as well. Hence, the drinking binge.

"Want some?" the guard offered a glass.

"I don't drink sir. My master won't be pleased…"

"Well," said the guarding, pouring clear, sparkling wine for himself and his companion, and raising his glass. "To the Great Tisroc – may He live forever! And to the most noble Tash!"

Nia watched in anticipation as the guards gulped down the wine, and then poured some more, and more, until they swayed and staggered, and…

* * *

"Come," said Aravis, tugging at Nia's hand. She'd finished dressing herself up in Calormene clothes and was anxious to go. The whole camp had already fallen into slumber and it was the perfect time to escape.

"Follow me," said Toulouse, flicking his tail, and they ran, past tents, past sleeping guards, as stealthily as they could, to the place where Bree was waiting for them.

"Hurry," said Bree. Aravis quickly mounted him and held a hand out to Nia.

"I can't," Nia bit her lip. "I've got to return to Cair Paravel!"

"But it's miles away," Aravis argued. "Are you crazy? You're going to get yourself killed. They'll catch you!"

"There's a spy in the High King's court," Nia reasoned. "I've got to tell them!"

"Well, there must be a way to send your message without risking your life!"

"There is," said Toulouse. "Look, we're wasting our time arguing here. Nia, you will with us to Archenland, whether you like it or not. Now mount Bree. I'll tell you the way when we meet him."

Something about Toulouse's tone made Nia rather scared to disobey. She climbed Bree, positioned herself behind Aravis, who was smaller than she was, Toulouse jumped into her arms, and they rode into the night, to where Cor was waiting for them.

* * *

Peter stared once more at Swanwhite. It was really funny, how she reminded her of someone. Two someones, really. One was dead, and the other... Well, the other one was missing.

"I daresay she looks a lot like Nia," Susan mused from behind him.

Peter must've jumped about a league up in the air. "What are you doing here?" His sisters were busy looking at the painting, too.

"You're mooning over Nia again, aren't you?" Lucy touched the painting. "What's this?" She noticed a dark spot curled up in the Queen's arms. And then she saw the bright green eyes.

"It's a cat," said Peter. "Haven't you noticed, Lu?"

"Doesn't Nia have a cat we used to play with in Finchley?" mused Susan. "What's his name? Toulouse?"

"And he looks just like this cat…" Peter stared in wonder, and then moved to other paintings, holding his candlestick up at each.

"A lot of cats look alike, Peter," said Susan, following him.

"Look," said Peter, making a gesture around the Hall. "Everyone who's anyone in here has a cat… Except us. Everyone. And look…" He held up the candlestick to Queen Helen's face and motioned for Lucy and Susan to examine her portrait.

Lucy gasped. Queen Helen was very beautiful, with very soulful, very penetrating deep brown eyes… Nia's eyes.

And she had a cat in her arms. Black. With green eyes.

"So you're saying…" Susan's voice faded.

"Remember what they told us," asked Peter, "about the lost Narnian Princess, Helaena? Swanwhite and Thorn's daughter?"

"What about her? She's supposed to be dead, remember?"

"Well what if she didn't die then? What if Aslan sent her to another world?"

"Surely, you don't mean…?"

"Aunt Lena!" Lucy exclaimed. "I mean, her name's Helaena, right? And she's orphaned… Remember how she always said she couldn't remember her childhood very well, and we had the sense that she was keeping something from us?

"Oh my," Susan said. "And now that Aunt Lena's dead…"

"Nia's the Princess now," Lucy had a look of excitement on her face. "Oh, how wonderful it would be if Nia was coronated a Queen… Or even the High Queen!"

"We have to find Nia," said Peter, who'd turned red. "She just turned even more precious. What if the Calormenes find out who she is?"

"Well, she didn't know, did she? How could they find out? And even if she did, she isn't stupid. She won't get herself caught."

Peter shrugged headed out of the Hall of Kings; unable to shake the gnawing feeling that Nia had just slipped farther from his reach. She was a princess all along, descended from King Frank and Queen Helen. And he was just Peter, appointed High King. The blood of ancient monarchs coursed through her veins. And he was just a simple English boy sucked into another world. "Where's Mister Tumnus?" He had the notion that the Faun hadn't told them everything.

**END OF CHAPTER**


	7. The Flight to Archenland

**CHAPTER 7: _The Flight to Archenland_**

"It was not my secret to tell," said Mister Tumnus to the Pevensies. "She told me not to, you know. Besides, I don't think she wanted to make you feel you had a competition… She was a right sort, that girl. I'd hate for her to think I blabbed her secret to you, even though you ordered me to."

"I'm glad you decided to honor her wishes," said Edmund, placing a hand on the Faun's shoulder. "And you didn't blab to us. We figured everything out from the paintings at the Hall of Kings. But we're going to have to conduct a more intensive search… Since she is, by birthright, Princess of Narnia, and, were we not here, Heir Apparent to the throne, we have to keep her alive."

Peter was silent, gloomy. Nia was a Duchess in England and a blood royal in Narnia. It seemed as if the high horse separating her from him had just grown taller. He could recall the time when that barrier was nonexistent… But wasn't it his fault? Nia wanted to be friends again, and he'd forgotten all about her. Now she was out there, probably awaiting her doom…

"I'm not too worried about her dying," said Mister Tumnus. "She's a born survivor, like her mother… But I'm worried about her falling in with the wrong sort. What if she's enslaved?"

"The Nia I know wouldn't let herself get caught," said Lucy, in an attempt to lift everyone's spirits. "Remember how it took hours for us to find her when we were playing hide and seek?"

* * *

No one answered, because everyone knew Nia was playing hide and seek on a grander scale, where her life was at stake.

"Aravis," said Cor. They were riding the horses Bree and Hwin (Cor and Nia's rucksack on Hwin, Nia, Toulouse, and Aravis on Bree) on the way to Archenland, taking backroads to avoid the Calormenes.

When Nia and Aravis reached Cor a few minutes before, he was already riding Hwin, and they immediately set of at a gallop. Now, the horses were just trotting carefully around the forest.

"Cor," said Aravis coolly. Nia couldn't help but feel the tension arising between the two. It was as palpable as cow dung in a barn – not pleasant, but there you go. It's still there..

"How are you?"

"I'm fine, thanks." Nia loved Aravis's accent. It sounded very exotic. But honestly, she was feeling more and more awkward, witnessing this rather tense scene between Aravis and Cor.

"Oh, er, how can I send a message to Cair Paravel?" Nia butted in. "There's a spy in King Peter's court, you know. And I have to tell them immediately about it." Peter's name, prefixed with the word "king" sounded odd to her, another thing that separated her from her childhood friends.

"There is?" Cor sounded alarmed. "You'll have to tell me all about it!"

Cor was interested in Narnian politics?

"Well, we have to put a good deal more space between us and the Calormenes, do we, before we rest?" said Toulouse. "It's too dangerous here."

Nia nodded. She was extremely worried. The Pevensies were looking for her, and she couldn't even make things easier for them. Guilt struck her hard. What if they lost the war because Peter and Edmund couldn't concentrate on the battle plans? And that was because they were looking for her? Then it would be all her fault.

The two horses suddenly set off in a gallop, drawing Nia from her troubled thoughts.

* * *

"My lotion's peeling off in the face," Nia said a few hours later. The horses were exhausted and they rested for a while beside a stream.

"Wash it off," said Aravis. "It'll get sticky and uncomfortable in a few minutes, and may even cause rashes. Not a pretty sight."

Nia threw Cor and Bree a look that meant, "I'm going to take a bath. Go away."

The two males seemed to understand, anyway, and turned their backs on her. Nia sighed, asked Aravis to cover her, removed her armor, and stepped into the cool, sparkling water.

Suddenly, there was a sound of something like tearing cloth. It was Toulouse. And he'd accidentally torn the Pageboy clothes on some roots.

"You can always wear your old clothes," said Toulouse by way of apology. "The Calormene cloak and helmet can cover you up."

After a few minutes, Nia was already dressed in her English clothes, fixing her hair up so she could put on the helmet later.

"Why, you're a beauty, aren't you?" said Aravis admiringly.

"Thanks," said Nia, turning red. "You're very beautiful yourself." It was the second time she'd been complemented on her looks. She stood there, blushing like her silly cousins back in America.

"Okay," said Cor, turning around. "My turn. You can send your message here, you know. Just don't look at me while I'm washing this thing off."

Nia and Aravis walked a few meters away. "How do I send a message to Cair Paravel?"

"Simple, really," said Toulouse, who followed them. "The trees."

Nia looked at the nearest tree. "The trees?"

"Yes," said Toulouse. "Every tree has a spirit, you know. And they pass along messages at the speed of the wind. Very reliable. News travels fast, thanks to them tree nymphs."

"Oh," said Nia, and turned to the nearest tree, and elm. "Er, excuse me?" No one answered. "Is anyone here?"

"Oh no," said Toulouse. "You don't wake the tree nymphs that way. You curtsy and say, 'Daughter of the Earth, I have an urgent message for Their Majesties'."

Nia did as she was told, and was rather surprised to see a tree nymph emerging from the tree.

"Yes, Daughter of Eve?" The tree nymph was rather beautiful, in a wild sort of way. Her floor-length brown hair was wild and strewn with leaves, and her green eyes sparkled mischievously. "Speak, and I shall pass it on."

The nymph had never seen Princess Helaena before. Thank God. Thank Aslan.

"Well, there's a spy in the High King's court," Nia began. "His name's Jude… It may be a monicker, for all I know. King Peter needs to be careful in dealing with his advisers. And tell him… Tell him the message is from Wendy." Wendy was one of the nicknames the Pevensies had given her because she was so good a storyteller, like Wendy Darling from Peter Pan. "And please, tell my message to His Majesty in private, though the other Majesties may be present."

"As you wish, daughter of Eve," the tree nymph bowed to her and stepped back in her tree. Soon, Nia saw leaves fly overhead, land in the next tree, and so on… It was so beautiful. Nia had no doubt the message would reach Cair Paravel sooner than expected.

"Well," said Cor, already dressed in his pageboy clothes. "Let's go!"

"Where?" Aravis raised her eyebrows. "To the Pass?

"We're not going through the Pass, little Tarkheena," said Bree. "It's too open. We'll go there only if we have no other choice!"

"Well then," said Nia, taking her rucksack and mounting Bree first. "Shall we?"

* * *

"Where's Ape?" Peter asked Oreius the next morning. They were in the royal dining room, having breakfast with the rest of the royal family and Mister Tumnus.

"He's gone back to his home to have a short rest, sire," Oreius replied. "But he will be returning shortly…"

The reply was cut short by a sudden burst of wind from some of the windows and leaves entering the large windows. The leaves then landed in front of Peter and formed a woman-like shape, the messenger of the tree spirits.

"Greetings, Your Majesties," said the Messenger. "I have a message to you to be delivered in private from your friend Wendy."

"Wendy?" asked Lucy. "Who's Wendy?"

"Perhaps we should go, Your Majesties," said Oreius, standing up. Mister Tumnus did the same, and together, they left the room.

"Peter, are you okay?" Susan noticed the weird look on Peter's face. "Who's Wendy?"

"Don't you remember, Su?" Peter turned to his sister, his face betraying his joy. "We gave Nia a number of nicknames, remember? Like Dorothy, and Scheherazade, and – and Wendy!"

"What's the message?" Edmund asked the Messenger urgently. "And where's Wendy?"

"My Lords and Ladies," the Messenger said, "I fear the Lady Wendy brings you grave news. There is a spy in your midst."

* * *

"I can't sleep," said Aravis that night. They decided to take a quick rest, with Cor and Toulouse keeping watch for any enemies.

"I can't either," said Nia. Her eyes refused to stay shut. She was too busy thinking about the Pevensies. By now, they would've received her message. "I keep wondering if Peter and the rest received my message…"

"You're on first name terms with the High King of Narnia?" from her position on the ground, Nia could practically see Aravis raising an eyebrow.

"As a matter of fact, yes."

"What happened?"

"Well, we lost touch… It's not much, really…" Nia felt tears sting her eyes.

"Losing touch with them meant much to you. I can tell. You're crying, aren't you?"

Nia didn't answer.

"I was a Tarkheena in Calormen, you know," Aravis said from her makeshift sleeping bag. "I was rich, and people were waiting for me hand and foot. Tarkhaans and Princes were knocking on my door day and night, asking for my hand…"

"Aren't you a little too young to be married off?"

"It's a custom in our country to have girls already married by the age of sixteen. It's a cruel world out there, you know."

"Tell me about it."

"My father, a renowned Tarkhaan and servant of the Tisroc," here, Nia noticed that Aravis didn't suffix may-he-live-forever, "was a proud man. He's a great warrior, you know, but then, there's a difference between a great man and a great father…"

Nia bit her lip to stifle a sob. Her father had been a great man, too. And even though he wasn't a good father, he tried his best to be one. And for Nia, that was good enough. It's just that, it was cruel he never had the chance to be a good father. "At least he has your best interests at heart."

"Best interests?" Aravis laughed bitterly. "You call marrying me off to some withering old Tarkhaan 'best interests'? He had his best interests at heart, not mine. Sure, he showered me with gifts, he spoiled me… But he never thought of anyone but himself."

"What about your mother? She can't possibly as selfish."

"She was a wonderful woman," Aravis said, this time, speaking in a rather wistful manner. "She was kind and compassionate, and… She was a Paragon of every virtue there is. She loved me so much… Perhaps too much…" Here, Aravis broke off, and Nia could hear her trying to control her tears.

"I'm sorry."

"I was only seven, then. I was too young. After three months, father remarried, this time, to the beautiful daughter of the Pasha of Tashbaad. Ooh, she was such a villainess!" Aravis then proceeded to describe her stepmother in the most colorful language Nia'd ever heard. Not that it wasn't funny – it was, if a bit disturbing.

"My teachers would be so ashamed of me if they heard me telling a story in this manner," Aravis said. "Storytelling is something we're taught… Like an art!"

Like writing essays, thought Nia. Only everyone wants to hear stories and no one wants to read essays.

"I met Cor some weeks ago. I sort of rescued him from the City… He was stumbling about pretty stupidly, you know, dazed and wild-looking. It's thanks to me that we escaped!"

Nia laughed. "Cor's an intriguing boy, isn't he?"

"Very," Aravis admitted. "But what about you? Who're your parents? And why are you so concerned about the High King and his Royal brother and sisters?"

Nia sighed. It was impossible not to tell Aravis everything. But may be she'd keep certain things to herself, like how she found out she was a Princess of Narnia (Narnia, Princess of Narnia – how redundant! she thought), or how much Peter really meant to her.

"Well, you better not interrupt," said Nia. "For I'll tell you my story from the very beginning. Which is pretty much my birth, anyway…"

* * *

"There are no passable roads other than the Pass," Cor said miserably the next morning. "How on earth are we ever going to enter Archenland?"

"Don't lose hope, Son of Adam," said Hwin, who'd come with him to scout for possible routs that morning. "There are ways…"

"Unless you want to get eaten by the Wild Bear of Stormness."

"Don't be so grumpy, Cor," said Nia. "Maybe we can take the Pass by stealth."

"Impossible," Cor snorted. "It's lined with Calormene soldiers… No view is safe, no path unblocked… Besides, the General will have known that you've escaped by now, Aravis."

"Well, he won't be searching South," said Aravis, eating her apple primly. "He knows I'm not stupid enough to run straight into the lion's den and would probably have gone North in the direction of Cair Paravel."

"We can't go back North," said Toulouse, licking his paws, "nor can we go South. I fear we're trapped." He paused and gazed balefully at them. "But something tells me we have to take the Pass."

"Animal instinct?" said Nia, wrinkling her nose. "We're running straight into our doom if we go there, Tou."

Toulouse shook his head and started off.

"Hey!" said Nia, getting up and preparing to ride Bree.

Toulouse stopped several meters ahead. "You'll have to trust me."

Cor mounted Hwin. "Well, let's go." Then, he cast a look at Aravis, whose face spelled her skepticism. "Unless of course, you want to stay here?"

"This is madness!"

"This is better than doing nothing," Nia argued. "Besides, I'm sure Aslan, or God, whoever is the Higher Power here, will protect us."

"Whatever," said Aravis, rolling her eyes, but preparing to mount Bree, anyway.

* * *

Peter wanted to bang his head against the wall in frustration. There was a Calormene spy in his castle, selling off valuable information to the enemy. Nia attempted to communicate with them – how did she find out?

The only viable reason was that she saw the actual moment of betrayal. But where? Was she in a Calormene camp? If so, why?

A number of reasons popped in his mind, not one of them good.

The Messenger said she didn't know the tree to which Nia had originally told her message, except that it was somewhere South.

South, where the woods were more infested with Calormenes.

"She wasn't caught, Peter," said Edmund, who'd been noticing his brother staring into space. "I guarantee you that?"

"How? She's in a Calormene-infested zone…"

"The fact that she'd been able to send us a message means she's alive. If those dark-skinned infidels had caught her, they'd have executed her on the spot for merely being Caucasian. But they didn't. And if they're keeping her hostage, it would've been impossible for her to have sent that message."

Susan, who was sitting opposite them in the dining table, sighed. "I wish she'd told us what she's up to."

"Well, maybe there was no time," said Edmund. "I mean, the southern area's Calormene-infested. Besides, she told us everything she thought she had to tell us. I mean, she couldn't possibly know we remember her. She's done so much by sparing the time to tell us we're being betrayed. Saying the thing about Wendy was just an added precaution, just in case we think everything's a joke or someone mentions this to Jude… Who's Jude, anyway?"

"Yes," said Lucy, her forehead wrinkled in concentration. "Who's Jude?"

* * *

"It's alright," said Cor as they rested for a while in a glade. It was about noon, and they were taking side roads and tracks to the Pass. Many times they had to hide away and let Toulouse do the exploring, thanks to marauding Calormene spies and scouts. Each was a mighty close call, and they really were feeling more tired than they wanted to show each other. "We're still leagues away from the Pass…"

"Shut up, Cor," snapped Aravis, who was in an irritable mood. "Just shut up. Don't you realize we're heading to our deaths here?"

"Well, would you rather have stayed in the Camp, then?" Cor retorted.

"Okay," said Nia, butting in. She hated it when Cor and Aravis bickered, which they seemed to like. Bickering, that is. "We are not heading to our deaths. We're going to make it. Everything's going to be alright."

"Yes, I'm sure the soldiers won't skin us alive and then burn our bones and then ground it to dust," said Aravis sarcastically. "You're so right, Nia. We're going to be alright."

Nia couldn't think of a comeback for that. She was smart and intelligent, yes, but she wasn't that witty.

"Think whatever you like," she shrugged. "But I think we should be grateful we haven't run into any Calormenes."

Aravis became more subdued after that.

* * *

"I'm sorry," Aravis said later that night. They were only a few leagues from the Pass now, and they deemed it prudent to rest on the branches of the stoutest oaks (and beeches and elms). "I really didn't mean to offend you."

"It's okay," said Nia. "I'm scared of passing the Pass – isn't that redundant? – myself. But then, Mum always said that there are no easy choices, only right ones."

"And you think going through the Pass is the right choice?"

"Yes… But it doesn't make me feel any better about it."

"That's what Mother would've said," Aravis said wistfully. "Whenever I felt bad about something, she would take me aside and tell me a story. Any story, just to take my mind off things."

Nia smiled. Storytelling really was one of her talents… Like Sheherazade. "Would you like me to tell you a story?"

Aravis smiled at her gratefully. Even in the dark, Nia could see her dark eyes glistening with tears. "Yes… Very much so."

"Well then," said Nia in her storyteller voice. "The story I'm about to tell you are stories within a story. This is the tale of Sharyar, a Persian king, and Sheherazade, the clever vizier's daughter… This is the Tale of a Thousand and One Nights…"

* * *

"Oreius," said Peter, gazing at the ocean from the window of his office.

"Yes, sire."

"Do you know anyone from the Council or the Guards named Jude?"

"No," said Oreius. "Pardon, sire. I am of no help in detecting whoever this menace is…"

Just then, the door to his office opened, revealing one of his advisers, the Ape. Peter never liked Ape, who always flaunted his power and tried to suck up with Their Majesties every moment he could do so.

"Sire," the Ape said, bowing low and speaking in an annoyingly oily manner. "I apologize for my being late. The Council awaits your presence in the Conference Room and King Edmund has asked me to call you upon my arrival…"

"Thanks very much, Ahab," said Peter, not really hearing what the suckup was saying. The Conference Room… That room contained painful memories to him. It was where he first saw Nia again, after five long years… It was where he and his siblings terribly wounded her. "Go ahead. We'll join you in a few minutes."

"Yes, sire," said the greasy-mannered Ape, who bowed very low before exiting. Oreius locked the door and looked at Peter, his eyes shining.

"I think I know who Jude is, sir," said Oreius.

"Who? Ahab? But that can't be!"

"Yes," said Oreius, "but he was the only adviser who was not here - other than Beaver, of course, may he get well soon – around the time you received that message from Wendy!"

Ahab the Ape, the spy? Peter imagined Ahab sneaking into the Calormene camp to deliver the news for his master… Somehow, the very thought of the Ape spying on them made him crack up, which he never did these days. The pressure of the upcoming war, added with Nia's disappearance (which he couldn't ignore) and this news of a traitor, was taking away his sense of humor ("As well as his sanity," said Edmund to Lucy).

"Okay, Oreius," said Peter after he'd recovered. "What do you suggest we do?"

* * *

"Are you sure you're not sending us to our deaths, Tou?" Hwin asked Toulouse nervously. Nia, Toulouse and company, were hiding in the shrubbery, within sight of the Pass. There was no one in sight, but somehow, the gap between the mountains seemed forbidding. It stank of death. And it didn't help that it was probably near or little past midnight.

"I'm quite sure," said Toulouse. "You want me to go ahead?"

"Toulouse!" As much as she tried to assure herself that going to the Pass was alright, Nia was still scared. It was the only road from the South leading into Narnia… The chances of the path unguarded were nil. "They'll kill you!"

"I'm a cat," said Toulouse. "Chances are, they won't even see me. And if they do, they'll just think I'm one of the imperial cats on the loose."

"Calormenes are fond of cats," said Aravis from behind another shrub. "Except me. I hate furballs…"

"And I hate perfumes," Toulouse retorted. "You humans, always preening…"

"Well, I suppose we'll just have to go together," said Cor. "I don't like the idea of you going alone. Besides, we'll have to go through the path sooner than later, anyway. With luck, they won't discover us right away… But what about you, Nia? Your Pageboy clothes are ruined."

"I'm wearing my cloak and helmet… It's dark, anyway. They won't be able to see clearly."

"Well then," Cor turned resolutely. "We'll have to go on foot from here." He swallowed. "Let's go."

* * *

The Pass, thought Nia, is deserted. Most suspicious. Where are the guards, anyway?

Not that she wasn't thankful. Imagine how you'd feel if you go into a place you expected to be swarming with enemies and find it empty of anything. The Pass was devoid of life, save for a few weeds here and there. There were no outposts, no soldiers, no horses…

"Where's everyone?" Aravis, who was leading Hwin, was obviously as frightened as they all were.

"Shhh," whispered Hwin. "Be quiet, will you?"

They plodded on, their steps weary and dragging. If the enemies weren't in the Pass, they would surely be waiting for them at the end. It was pretty stupid, going into the shark's lair, but what were they supposed to do? The chances of their reaching Cair Paravel without Calormenes sighting them were nil. At least, most of the spies were concentrated on the North of the camp.

Nia wondered if she'd ever see Peter again… And Susan, and Edmund, and Lucy… She might never have the chance to tell them stories again… Nia mentally kicked herself for running away. If she hadn't let her feelings get the better of her, she wouldn't be here, facing possible – nay, probable – death. The cliffs on either side of the Pass weren't designed to inspire optimistic thoughts.

"Halt!" cried a warrior from the cliff above them. Nia and her friends froze midstep. "Who are you and what is your business here?"

"They're just pageboys, Captain," said another.

"Who are your Masters, then?" The captain's voice was so menacing and Nia was so scared she felt she'd faint anytime.

Nia couldn't see very well in the dark, but by the look of the uniforms, they were surrounded by Calormene soldiers.

"We," said Bree, "are so dead."

* * *

"Hold your soldiers, Thalebald," a voice from the end of the Pass said to the soldiers. It was a rather calming voice, friendly, yet powerful. There was no accent. "These are friends."

"Thalebald?" Cor wrinkled his nose at the soldiers above. "That's an Archenlandish name!"

The soldiers above lowered their arrows. Whoever was at the end of the Pass was coming towards them.

Nia couldn't believe her eyes as she beheld the captain of this small, ragtag band of Pass guards. It – he – was a lion. A very large lion with a very shaggy many and penetrating yellow-green eyes. His aura proclaimed majesty and power. Then, she realized who'd saved them.

"The same lion that chased us," Aravis said breathlessly from beside her.

"It's alright," said Nia. Tears fell from her eyes, but she made no move to wipe them away. She couldn't avert her gaze from this wondrous sight. "We're alright!"

"I apologize for the alarm we've caused you, most honorable lords and ladies," said the man called Thalebald, descending from the cliffs. He was a tall, imposing, dark-skinned man. But that couldn't be right… Close inspection revealed that his skin was dyed and his eyes were hazel.

Cor merely nodded. He couldn't speak. The sight of his savior rendered him speechless for the time being.

"Come Your Majesty," said Aslan, turning his back on them and padding away. "Your army awaits."

**END OF CHAPTER**


	8. Cor's Royal Army

**CHAPTER 8: _Cor's Royal Army_**

The army Aslan had gathered for Cor was located near the southwestern edge of Archenland, several leagues away from the conquered city of Anvard. Nia couldn't help but marvel at Aslan's ability to put things right without cheating. She knew he was powerful enough to wipe out the Calormenes at Anvard with a single breath, yet he chose to gather all the remaining free Archenlanders and form an army.

An army waiting for the return of their king, Cor.

"I can't believe you didn't tell us you're King, or even Crown Prince," Aravis huffed as they rode to the camp. Aslan insisted so, saying that they needed to reach the camp quickly. None of them doubted that. Cor rode Bree and Aravis rode Hwin. Aslan, meanwhile, had especially asked Nia and Toulouse to ride him.

"It is my way of welcoming you, Your Highness," Aslan murmured so the rest wouldn't hear.

"Well, my position was that delicate, you know," Cor said defensively. "I'm on top of General Khabir's Wanted list. What if he found out?"

I'm on that list too, thought Nia.

"You didn't trust us," said Aravis accusingly.

"Enough," growled Aslan. It gave Nia and Toulouse a fierce sort of joy riding him. The Lion's movements were far more graceful than any horse could manage, even one as noble as Bree or Hwin. "Cor did what he believed was right."

They were softly treading around forest. Even though there were many of Aslan's agents (or Cor's agents, considering that they did come from his army) in the woods, they were still too near Anvard for comfort. Eversince they'd retaken the Pass (and had Thalebald's unit patrolling the area as Calormene soldiers), they'd been controlling the messages that reach the city.

By stealth and strategy, they were gaining the upper hand. But the army at Anvard was huge. The soldiers at the Calormene camp in Narnia were a mere scouting party. Nia shuddered to think of the sheer size of the entire Calormene Army, including those units across the desert. They could easily conquer Narnia if Aslan had not been around. She knew Aslan wouldn't let them. She wanted to help.

Suddenly, Aslan said, "Hold on tight, Narnia." He always called her by her real name. "We can run freely now."

Nia hugged Toulouse tight and clung on to Aslan's mane as he broke into a run, with Bree and Hwin following suit.

* * *

"There's a Calormene camp in the Southern woods," said Edmund. "I'm sure of it."

Peter, Edmund, Susan, Lucy, Oreius, and Mister Tumnus were all trooped in Peter's office. The High King had all spyholes in his office sealed and had finally allowed his female siblings to attend these top-secret meetings.

"How can you say so, Ed?" Susan knew her younger brother had the uncanny ability to know things merely by pure logic.

"Well, Nia obviously witnessed the transaction between the spy – we're not sure if it's Ahab – and the Calormenes. It could only have occurred in a camp, since Ahab could only have told it to a high-ranking official. And I'm sure the Official wouldn't be here if he didn't have a camp."

"Well, he could easily go into Narnia if they did meet in the Southern woods, anyway," said Peter. He was amazed at the complex simplicity of the situation. Calormen declared war. There's a spy for the Calormenes somewhere around them. Nia stumbles into Narnia, runs away from Cair Paravel, and stumbles into a meeting that may well change the tide of the battle. The Calormene army outnumbered the Narnian army, but Narnians were much more clever. Once they zeroed in on the spy, they would have the upper hand. Obviously, General Khabir relied very much on this spy.

The problem was, where do the rebels fit in? As much as Peter hated to admit it, he really needed their support. Too bad they were being all stubborn and tightassed.

"Well, the camp's not that far south," Edmund replied. "Nia had gone farther south and yet she still was in Narnia. I'm guessing that the camp's pretty near Dancing Lawn, give or take a few leagues."

"We must scour that area immediately," said Oreius. "We can easily gain the upper hand by waking the tree spirits."

"No," said Peter. "Two can play this game. They sent a spy to us. And we'll use that spy against them."

Susan really admired the grace with which Peter handled the situation. It was all ridiculously interwoven to her. But there were times like this when Peter scared her. There was a steely aura about him that was rather alarming.

"At least," said Edmund once they were out of their brother's earshot, "he's using his head."

* * *

Cor's royal army was small. That, Nia was sure of as they stood on the cliff overlooking the Camp, with the first rays of sunlight illumination it. Yet it was a busy camp, with soldiers discussing strategies – some of the people weren't even soldiers!

"They're just citizens," Nia said mostly to herself.

"They are people willing to fight for their freedom," said Aslan, who'd heard her. Then, he spoke to their entire motley group on the cliff. "Cover your ears."

They did. Not that it was that useful. The roar Aslan gave, announcing their arrival, was terribly loud. They still heard it (though a bit muffled) even though their hands were on their ears.

"Hail Aslan," said the people far below.

"People of Archenland," said Aslan gravely, "I bring you your King."

Silence followed these words. Nia saw the people stare blankly at the great lion.

"I think he means you to step forward," said Toulouse to Cor.

"Oh," said Cor. "If you say so."

"He's nervous," mouthed Aravis to Nia. "Very nervous."

"What did you expect?" Nia thought Cor looked pretty majestic standing there at the very edge of the cliff, preparing to address his nation. "I mean, they are his people now…"

"Oh, er," said Cor, unsure what to say to his people. Indeed, they all thought he was going to be sick. Nia had never seen anyone turn that shade of green. "Hello?"

Nonetheless, the people below, men, women, and children, all began to say in unison, "LONG LIVE KING COR! LONG LIVE ASLAN! LONG LIVE ARCHENLAND!"

* * *

"What is your command, sire?" the cherry tree spirit asked Peter. He was eating breakfast with his siblings and had asked one of the tree nymphs residing near Cair Paravel to appear before him immediately.

"I want you to send a message to your brothers and sisters in the Southern forests," said Peter. "We have enemies there, and I fear they have strategically encamped themselves were no tree spirits such as you reside (or they're sleeping). I want you to have the area scoured. When you find the camp, tell me where it is, and watch over it. Inform me of whatever goes on there, but tell me in private."

"Is that all, sire?"

"Yes. You may…"

"One moment," said Susan. "Please… Ask your relatives there if they've seen a girl with rather messy, curly mousy-brown hair with brown eyes, about fourteen years old with expressive brown eyes. She has a black cat with her."

"She talked with one of you if we're not mistaken," said Edmund, finishing of his toast in one large swallow.

"That's disgusting, Ed," said Susan, wrinkling her nose. "It's as if you've learned no manners at all!"

"We'd really be thankful if you bring us news of this girl," said Peter.

"I will try my best, Your Majesties," said the tree spirit, and it dematerialized.

"Why don't we go search for her ourselves?" asked Lucy. "That way, we can learn what she's up to right away!"

"Are you already tired with your life?" Edmund snorted.

"It's too dangerous, Lu," said Susan, kissing the top of her head.

"It's too dangerous for her as well," Lucy argued and promptly burst into tears. "She's out there, cold and hungry, and we're here, safe and warm! Why can't we go out there to find her?"

"We have other matters to take care of first," said Peter, standing up. "Besides, we've spent enough time looking for her." He didn't want to show his siblings how confused he was… He knew that, as High King, he must push aside his friendship for Nia in favor if his country. He wouldn't be able to bear it if the Calormenes conquered Narnia. Over his dead body would they do so.

And yet… It was very difficult not to worry about her. If only Narnia wasn't at stake…

"Do you know," said Mister Tumnus, who'd entered the private dining area, "that when you say the word 'Narnia', you're not only referring to the country but also to the girl Nia?"

Peter winced. He'd spoken aloud.

"She's our friend," said Lucy, her navy blue eyes pleading with him. "She's as good as our sister…"

"You mean her full name's Narnia?" asked Edmund. "How funny… No matter what choice we make, Narnia is at stake."

"It's not funny," Susan snapped and stormed out of the room.

"Oh, grow up, Ed," Peter shook his head in derision and followed Susan. He knew Edmund was right, it was funny, and yet…

It wasn't.

"But you're in love with her Peter!" he suddenly heard Lucy bawl from behind him. "Why are you putting her in danger?"

Love? Peter broke into a run and welcomed the fresh sea breeze that greeted him as he ran out of Cair Paravel. He removed his boots and let the sand cover his feet as he sat on the beach; his thoughts and feelings all messed up over what his sister had said.

Love? Am I in love with Nia?

* * *

It was rather difficult dealing with the Archenlanders for the first few hours of their stay in the Camp. Cor was always with Aslan and his friend, the Hermit ("I say, he looks a lot like the Merlin I've imagined!" said Nia), receiving some guidance or other on how to lead the army. The survivors were hardened. Their dislike for the former Tarkheena was so palpable; it made Aravis break into tears. Nia almost started a fistfight on behalf of her friend.

And then, Aslan stepped in and told them how Nia and Aravis played a huge part in saving their King's neck. The Archenlanders couldn't be more eager to have both girls' forgiveness and friendship. Soon, the two girls found themselves having a supper of roasted chicken in front of a large bonfire with all the other humans in the area.

"How come the Calormenes at Anvard haven't discovered the camp?" Nia asked one of the soldiers. "I mean, don't they patrol the country?"

"Well, they would have finished us off if they weren't as bloody arrogant as they are," shrugged the soldier, whose name was Dash. "But they do send I some tiny patrol troops from time to time. They're no match for the camp guards anyway. We shoot 'em and then we dress some of our soldiers in their places."

"Like Thalebald?"

"You mean, you met Cap'n Thalebald already?" Dash was sort of amazed. "He's one of the higher ups here! I haven't even had…"

"He's part of the Pass guards," Nia explained. He didn't add how Thalebald and his soldiers nearly shot them in the dark.

In the corner of her eye, she saw Aravis chatting gaily with one of the women and Toulouse munching sardines with gusto. She winced inwardly at this unashamed display of gluttony. Cor was on the other side of the bonfire, still conversing with Aslan and the Hermit.

"I know you've saved the King, milady," Dash began.

"Nia."

"Well, Nia, then," said Dash. "But I was curious as to how you've run into him."

"I was sort of running away at the time. Don't ask whom I was running away from. It's a bit personal. But he saw me in the woods and took me in before the Calormenes spotted me."

"It was rather foolhardy of a lady such as yourself to be running about the Narnian woods all by yourself."

"I know," said Nia, who was beginning to feel annoyed with Dash. "Listen, I do you want to hear another story?"

"I will if it's as interesting as your story."

"It is." Anything to keep Dash from asking more about her. "I'm going to tell you the tale of a soldier who kept the conquering Mongols out of her country…"

"Her?"

"Yes," said Nia. "This is the story of Mulan…"

* * *

"These swords weigh a ton," huffed Nia as she tried to lift one of the swords in the armory the next morning. "I wonder how these people manage to lift these things! The swords at home weigh much lighter!"

"Well, those aren't for fighting, anyway," said Toulouse. "And you do look a sight, what with the gown and the sword…"

Nia had long since changed into a brown hunting gown that matched her eyes. It was a lot more comfortable than the gown Mister Tumnus had made her wear on the way to Cair Paravel.

"Well, don't they have lighter swords for women to use?"

"Women are supposed to be archers," said Cor, who'd just entered the armory tent, a twinkle of amusement in his eye.

"Well, women are supposed to learn how to fight with swords as well," said Nia stubbornly. "How are we supposed to defend ourselves when we're in danger?"

"Well, you can use daggers…"

Nia eyed the sword hanging around Cor's waist with envy. "Daggers aren't much. So, what's up with all the planning and brainstorming with Aslan?"

"General Khabir's army is too great to defeat by mere force," sighed Cor, running his hand through his hair. "At least, not with the force we have now. But since the majority of that army is going into Narnia anytime soon, we'll pretty much be dealing with a skeleton army. But I expect we'll have to need inside help. There are lots of Archenlanders enslaved in the city. We have to send someone in…"

"Sounds interesting," Nia nodded. "You could send someone pretending to be slave and then tell the citizens inside that you're going to attack then have them open the gates."

"Yes," said Cor a bit distractedly. "Yes…" Then, he looked intently at her. "Listen, do you really want a sword?"

"But if it's going to be too much of a bother, I'll make do with a bow and arrows and a dagger, thank you very much."

"You shall have one of a lighter weight," said Cor. "We can't have someone as pretty as you getting heavy muscles due to lifting heavy swords."

"Really?" Nia felt excited. A real war sword! "Thanks!"

"Honestly, Narnia Evenshire," said Cor, laughing as he exited the tent, "you are a force of nature!"

* * *

The tree spirits had immediately located the Calormene camp. It was south, a few leagues from the southernmost point of the Great River. The spirits had reported a rather large camp with a huge number of soldiers, so General Khabir had presumably sent several of his minions ahead for easier passage later on. The camp was fully equipped with all the weaponry as well as the tools to make them.

"But what about Nia?" cried Lucy.

"She is gone," said the Messenger. "The camp is in uproar apparently because one of their prisoners – a Tarkheena – has escaped. A pageboy has helped her by drugging her guards…"

"But what about Nia?" This time, it was Susan who asked. She was asking on behalf of Peter, who was sort of staring stoically around. Stupid male pride.

"The tree with which she spoke was found. It was an elm twenty leagues south of the camp. She was with a Calormene girl dressed as a pageboy."

"Is that all, Messenger?" asked Edmund.

"Yes sire."

"Then you may go… And report to us everything that happens there."

The Messenger bowed and disappeared in a flurry of leaves.

"What's she up to?" asked Peter.

Susan frowned. It seemed as if her brother was talking to himself. But then, she knew all of them wanted to know what Nia was up to. As much as the Gentle Queen was worried for the Narnian Princess, she really wanted to her brother the High King to snap out of his daze.

* * *

"Steady your arm, Nia," said Frieda, one of the women archers. The Archenlanders were teaching her and Aravis archery. Needless to say, Nia was nowhere as good as Aravis, who'd been taking archery since she was little.

"Yes," said Nia. Her arm was shaking and the sun shining high over their heads impaired her aim. She let the bow drop for a while.

"Resting already?" commented Cor, coming out of his tent (which was larger than all the rest, even the Hermit's hut, in which Nia and Aravis were staying). "My, Nia, how on earth are you ever going to learn to use a sword properly if you keep on resting?"

Nia huffed and drew her bow. Then, she let go of the arrow.

"Bull's eye!" Toulouse whooped. "Told you she can be an archer if she wants to be."

"Aslan wants to talk to you," said Cor, motioning at his tent. "Alone."

Nia looked uncertainly at her cat before making her way to Cor's tent.

* * *

"Princess Narnia," said Aslan as she stepped in the tent. It was sort of dark and cool outside, except for a bluish sort of light coming from a large cauldron on a short pillar in the corner of the tent.

"My Lord," Nia replied and curtsied.

"I have long since awaited the return of the royal line. Narnia, daughter of Eve."

"Oh, er…"

"What is it, my daughter? Speak and I shall listen."

"I don't want to rule, Aslan," said Nia. "I mean, aside from Peter and the ga – and his family already sitting on the thrones – I don't think ruling's meant for me."

"Yes," said Aslan who was deep in thought. "I did not think for a moment that you would rule. You are not meant to take up the drudgery of politics and the grimness of leading a war."

"Yes, exactly," said Nia, then added sheepishly, "sire…"

"So far, you have proved yourself a courageous young woman. You have faced the Calormenes, saved a prisoner, and took the Pass amid the fears that cloud your mind."

"Well, Toulouse was bent on taking the Pass…"

"Because I called him," said Aslan. "Just as easily as I can call you."

Nia didn't know what to say.

"You have asked for a sword, I hear, little one."

"Yes sire."

"Well then, you shall have it," said Aslan, "though not for now. For now, you must face another of your fears."

The great Lion motioned for her to go to the cauldron. She did, and noticed that it was filled with clear, watery fluid.

"That is Mirrormere," Aslan explained. "With that, you can communicate with anyone anywhere… as long as they have a mirror."

"Oh dear." Nia bit her lip. She knew where this was heading. She wasn't sure whether she was ready to seem him – them – again just yet.

Aslan stepped forward and breathed on the Mirrormere.

* * *

Peter was gazing, frustrated, at his battle map. He was taking a brief rest from his advisers (and the spy) in his chambers, wondering how he should best skewer his original plans so that the spy'd give his masters the wrong information.

"Peter, my son…"

He nearly jumped a mile from his seat. Aslan. Relief and calm flooded through him. They were saved.

He looked around. There was no one there. "Where are you, sire?"

"Look carefully, my son."

That was when he saw Aslan looking at him. Only Aslan was in his mirror, the large oval one that was the centerpiece of his wall. His great face filling the entire space.

"My Lord," he knelt down.

"Rise, King Peter, for a friend has something to say to you." Then, Aslan looked at somebody who was, apparently, out of the scope of whatever magical object connecting Aslan's location with Peter's room in Cair Paravel. "If you may."

Then, Aslan withdrew his face from the mirror, to be replaced by a familiar, much worried-over face. The sight of her raw beauty took Peter's breath away. She looked strong and healthy and, most importantly, safe. But her eyes, normally lively, were rather distant.

"Nia," he whispered.

Nia looked at him, her expression unreadable, her eyes torturing him with their distance. "Sire."

**END OF CHAPTER**


	9. The Mirrormere

**CHAPTER 9: _The Mirrormere_**

"Sire," said Nia rather coldly. She mentally kicked herself – she needn't have been so cold with him. Peter looked worn and tired and…

Why did Peter Pevensie have to be so darned handsome, anyway? And why did his kingly face have to fill the entire bowl?

"Nia, where are you?" On the other side of the Mirrormere, Peter was practically laughing with relief. "We've been so worried and…"

"I'm in Archenland," she replied shortly. She couldn't help it. Evidently, the Pevensies remembered her now. She was annoyed with herself. "At Cor's camp."

"You're with Cor, the Crown Prince of Archenland? You'll have to tell me your story from the very beginning because honestly, we can't seem to keep track of your progress! Just a few days ago, you were here, and then…" Peter looked worriedly at her. "Nee, I'm so sorry."

Nia sort of felt sorry for him too. She must've given him – them – a hard time. But then, there was a part of her that wouldn't admit that. At least not immediately. She looked around and found that Aslan had gone from the tent. She looked back at the magic cauldron, back at Peter's handsome, extremely sorry face. She didn't answer.

"I don't know what came over me… It's like everything I've ever done and everyone I've ever known in England were all a dream! It's as if they never…"

"Happened?" Nia supplied. The look in Peter's blue eyes stopped her pride.

"Nia," he said, his voice strangled, "I really am sorry. Aslan knows…"

"Oh, er, yes." He was close to breaking down. Nia could tell. She took a deep breath. "I'm really, really, really sorry for running away like that. I'm really sorry for being a selfish, inconsiderate, stupid brat. And please don't cry. I really can't handle waterworks right now."

"I wasn't about to cry," Peter said indignantly. "Just… sore throat."

"Right," Nia snorted. They were back were they left off. It felt good. "So… Peter the High King, huh?"

"It's a long story."

"Mister Tumnus told me most of them, anyway. You seem to be a valiant knight."

"I'm a magnificent knight," Peter said. Lucy's the valiant one. I'm Peter the Magnificent, and they're Susan the Gentle, Edmund the Just, and Lucy the Valiant."

"Neat. And I'm… Well, for a few hours I've been a Calormene pageboy, and then, well, I've no title, really." Nothing concrete, anyway.

"And what's this I hear about you being the Duchess of Kent?" Peter said, eyebrows raised.

"Oh, um, that, er…" Nia didn't really feel like discussing her parents' deaths and her own ascent to Duchess-ship with anyone, let alone Peter. "Well, yes, but not until I'm legal…"

"I heard about your parents. I'm sorry."

"Mister Tumnus told you that, didn't he?"

"Well, Su really was a tough inquisitor. Wouldn't want to get on her wrong side…"

"What else did he tell you about me?" Did the Faun tell them that Nia was King Thorn's granddaughter?

"Well, he told me that you hated wearing long skirts when trekking, and that you snore…" Peter's eyes were twinkling with amusement

"I do not!"

"Well, that's what he told me." Here, Peter paused. "The rest, we figured out by ourselves."

"What do you mean?"

"Nia, we know."

"Know what?" That she was a princess, albeit illegitimate?

"That you're a Princess of Narnia. Honestly, all we had to do was compare you with the paintings in Hall of King." His eyes looked into hers searchingly and she had to look away. "You're not angry with Mister Tumnus, aren't you? It wasn't his fault. He didn't squeal…"

"Oh, that."

"Well you do look a lot like your ancestors. It's not anyone's fault I spend a lot of time in the Hall of Kings."

"What are you up to, anyway?" Nia wished she didn't blush. She certainly felt hot. Why did Peter have that effect on her?

"Oh, you know planning for the war. Thanks for the tip, anyway. You said you had a brief stint as a Calormene pageboy?" He looked eager for a story. She knew that excited twinkle in his eyes.

"You better get Susan and Edmund and Lucy. I'm sure they wouldn't want to miss this!"

* * *

"Nia!" Susan and Lucy shrieked. The Mirrormere's focus adjusted to fit all of the Pevensies within the frame. Susan looked even more radiant (if that was possible), and Lucy was practically glowing!

"You look so beautiful," Lucy sighed, touching her brother's mirror. "Wherever are you?"

"I'm in Archenland," Nia laughed at the look on Edmund's face, which was a cross between dumbfounded and amazed. "Don't ask. I'll tell all the details to you, anyway."

"We were so worried," said Susan, clutching at her cheeks, her porcelain-perfect face paler than usual.

"Er, yes, I had the idea." Nia really wasn't comfortable with apologizing. She'd never been comfortable with drama and tears and all that stuff – she wasn't an emotional person. "But I'm fine. The people here are friendly; they're even teaching me archery! And Cor promised to give me a customised sword. You wouldn't believe how heavy they are. I wonder how knights even manage to lift theirs… they must be taking something." She was babbling, she knew.

Oh, wait… Peter and Edmund were knights, weren't they? Nia blushed deeply, causing the Pevensies to fall on all fours laughing, Edmund and Lucy with tears streaming down their cheeks.

"When are you going back here, anyway?" Peter asked after they'd recovered.

"Oh, um…" She hadn't really thought of that. She wanted to be in Cair Paravel with the Pevensies, but she couldn't leave Cor and Aravis and all the Archenlanders willing to fight for their freedom. Although she'd known them for a short time, she couldn't just abandon them. She knew that if she needed help, these people wouldn't hesitate to extend a helping hand. Besides, if the Calormenes in Narnia caught her, it would pose terrible consequences for the Pevensies…

Wait, she couldn't tell them that. She needn't add more to their worries.

"I really can't leave now," she said slowly. "I mean, there are a lot of things do here. I owe my life to Cor and Aravis. Besides there are a lot of Calormenes between us. You don't want them catching me, do you?"

"No," said Susan, her face serious now. "We don't."

"Well," Nia tried to veer the subject away from her going back. "Do you want to hear what happened to me or not?"

* * *

"Oh do get rid of it, would you?" Susan said to Peter as the two of them walked around the beach, unshod. It was a beautiful Narnian afternoon and the beach below the castle looked so inviting. Too bad Edmund kept on smirking at Peter during lunch and Lucy kept on giggling. The High King had no choice but to ban his younger siblings from going out until they'd regained control of themselves.

"Get rid of what?"

"That lovesick look on your face," Susan gathered her skirts and waded in the water before turning around to examine her brother's face critically. "Honestly, you've been grinning like the cheshire cat eversince you emerged from your chambers."

"I'm just happy she's safe," said Peter. "When I saw her in the mirror… Well, I couldn't believe it at first. She looked so different…"

"Yes… She's grown quite nicely, hasn't she?" Susan looked shrewdly at her brother. "But she really is still the same. Sort of, anyway. Only blooming, if you get what I mean. And you must have been used to comparing her with Swanwhite's painting. Honestly, I think that's silly of you anyway, seeing that Nia's really quite unique."

"Yes," Peter said slowly, then looked at his sister. "She's not as delicate as you are."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning you should act less like an uptight noblewoman and more like a real human."

"Oh, really?" Susan raised her eyebrows. "Like this?" She scooped up some water and threw it at her brother's face.

"Argh!" Peter threw water at his sister. This water game continued for some minutes until Oreius galloped out of Cair Paravel and towards them.

"Your Majesties," said Oreius, his tone urgent. "King Cor of Archenland has an urgent message for you."

"Really? Where is it?" Peter had told Oreius and Mister Tumnus of the Mirrormere.

"In your rooms, sire," said Oreius, bowing before them. "In your Mirror."

* * *

"Your Majesties," said Cor, nodding at the Pevensies as they took seats in front of the mirror (which had become a sort of altar).

"Your Majesty," acknowledged Peter. "Before we begin our official business, I want to thank you for keeping Nia safe. I owe you a lot."

Edmund looked strangely at Peter. I? Wasn't it supposed to be "we"?

"It was nothing, Your Excellency," said Cor. "Nia has since become a sister to me." Then, he smiled, the first sign of informality showing through his features. "Besides, we have a sort of mutual friendship. She has helped me a lot."

"So she really did become a Calormene pageboy?" Lucy's eyes were wide. It was one thing to hear them from Nia and another to hear them from the King of Archenland.

"Yes," Cor was laughing now. "She is your friend, I suppose? How come she never told me? But then, this explains why she was most concerned and anxious to get back to you when she overheard the spy and that Calormene general. Honestly, you wouldn't believe…"

"She wanted to get back here?" Peter was beside himself with eagerness.

"Yes, but then she settled for sending a message via the trees instead. I'm glad Toulouse and Aravis knocked some sense into her. She could've… Well, anyway, I really wanted to discuss our battle tactics with you, if you don't mind. We're planning to recapture Anvard and regain Archenland."

* * *

"You're happy," said Aravis as they ate dinner in front of the bonfire together with the army. "I can tell."

"I feel… relieved," Nia replied. "I mean, I've been fretting about them for over a week now, and then suddenly we're alright."

"Next time you meet them via Mirrormere, you should bring me with you," said Toulouse, looking up from his plate of fresh salmon. This was the first time he'd spoken to her after she came out of the tent (with a giddy smile on her face). He'd sulked and gave her the cold shoulder for the next few hours.

"Sure."

"Well then," Toulouse went back to his fish.

"So," Aravis moved closer, her face having that conspiratorial look girls have when they're about to discuss something… personal. "He's handsome, isn't he?"

"Who?"

"Duh!" Aravis's voice was excited. "Peter, High King?"

"Well, Edmund's really good-looking too…"

"I'm talking about King Peter. What does he look like?"

"Oh, er," Nia blushed inspite of herself. Atavis giggled uncontrollably.

"What's going on over there?" It was Cor. "Aravis, are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Aravis replied. "It's nothing." Then, she dropped her voice to a whisper so only Nia could hear. "Well?"

"Well, he's about six feet…"

"Ideal height," Aravis nodded approvingly.

"Discussing a certain member of the opposite gender, aren't we?" Toulouse was looking at them, his eyes glowing mischievously. "A certain High King?"

"Whatever. He also has short dirty blonde hair and these wonderful eyes… Eyes the color of the sea."

"Well, sea blue can be gray-blue or blue-green, you know."

"That's just it," said Nia, who was already sounding dreamy without realizing it, much to the amusement of her friends. "They change, depending on his mood. But they always have that fetching sparkle…"

"Okay, we get the idea," Aravis laughed. "You like the boy – I mean, man. Admit it."

"Well, he is my friend…"

"Whatever," Aravis rolled her eyes. "You're hopeless." Then, she began braiding her magnificent black locks absentmindedly. "Well, you haven't finished your tale yet – the Thousand and One Nights."

"Well, what did you expect? They're meant to be told for a thousand and one nights, hence the title. Where were we, anyway?"

"We stopped at the part where Aladdin uses the jinnee of the lamp to stop the vizier's son from consummating his marriage with the Princess Barad al-Budur?"

"The part's rather icky, so you may want to finish off your mutton before I begin."

"I really don't mind." For a Tarkheena, Aravis was proving to be quite rough – or was she merely very flexible?

"Well, I hope you don't," said Nia, her face lit by the fire, her eyes agleam. People found her most attractive when she was telling a story, though she never actually noticed that. "This part involves privies and an unpleasantly wet vizier's son…"

* * *

Nia already had a schedule of her activities by the following week. She awoke quite early, at about six, eating breakfast after she'd washed at a nearby stream. Then, she held a morning conversation with Peter (usually with Toulouse). It was rather shocking the first time, when she'd glimpsed Peter changing his clothes. Nia had never seen a boy half-naked before, and the image of Peter's strong arms and taut stomach would forever remain with her. She had to admit it was rather awkward. Peter swore (a very colorful swear word, mind you) and ducked into the bathroom. Nia withdrew her head and dissolved the spell. Aravis and Toulouse had to endure an hour of constant nagging before they'd finally managed to assure Nia that her face wasn't all that red.

And then, after that, she practiced her archery with Aravis and Frieda (and sometimes, with Cor, whow as becoming more and more impressed by her prowess). And then, lunch. After that, she conversed with the Pevensies while the rest took a brief siesta, and then held dagger practices. Nia was proving to be a natural at dagger duels, wounding her sparring mate more times then she wanted to. She usually spent the hour before dinner bandaging someone's wounds – a task she subconsciously enjoyed. She'd always wanted to be a doctor. She just didn't realize she'd be nursing ones she herself had maimed.

And so it went, until one morning, when a crier suddenly woke them all up at about four in the morning.

"Hear ye! Hear ye! The Calormene Army has marched to Narnia!"

**END OF CHAPTER**

_**AN: **Sorry for the delay... God, I loathe dial-up connections!_


	10. Into the Well

**CHAPTER 10: _Into the Well_**

"Somehow, this is a lot less glamorous than I expected," said Toulouse. He was standing together with the archers on a cliff overlooking the walled city of Anvard. The archers were all wearing breastplates and helmets of some kind. They were all crouching low to keep themselves hidden from any watcher within the city.

"Battles are ugly affairs, aren't they?" Nia squinted and tried to make out the concealed army proper in the forest directly below them. "What's supposed to be glamorous about it?"

This is the moment they've all been waiting for ever since the crier arrived three days ago and announced the marching of General Khabir into Narnia for the battle with Edmund and Peter. This was the perfect time to make fools out of the remaining Calormenes.

Cor planned to have Thalebald and some of his men enter the city and warn the Archenlanders inside to prepare for the recapture of the city. His countrymen inside Anvard would be armed, ready to fight.

"Why are we standing here in the back anyway?" Aravis complained in a whisper.

"Didn't you hear what Cor said?" Nia whispered back. "'_Battles are uglier when women are involved'?"_

"He didn't!" Even though they were both whispering, indignation was written plainly on both girls' faces. "That little twit…"

"He did," Toulouse said. "Of course, Nia punched him in the eye for that, which explains why he has that terribly swollen eye. We can only hope it doesn't impair his vision."

"I couldn't help it… He was being obnoxious. Besides, he needed someone to enlighten him." Nia brushed away a stray lock of hair away from her eyes and clutched her bow harder. From their vantage point on top of the hill, the archers had a pretty good view of the insides of the city.

Anvard was built on another hill, with low houses (for easier defense) and a large castle at the center, on top of Anvard Hill. Nia could make out a large orange banner with the outline of a bird hanging on one of the castle walls.

"How on earth are we going to manage to shoot from here, anyway?" Aravis asked. "We're too far. The only targets we're going to be able to shoot are those actually stupid enough to go outside."

"Those Calormenes will go outside," Nia assured her. And then, "I hope."

"That wasn't exactly comforting," Toulouse grumbled. "What's the army doing, anyway?"

"Waiting for Thalebald's signal," answered Nia. "And then they march to the gates and demand the Calormenes to surrender. Battle ensues, and then the Archenlanders inside fight the Calormenes from behind, from inside, whatever."

"And then we shoot."

"And then we shoot."

"Narnian battles were much grander," Toulouse said. "There were phoenixes, and eagles and gryphons dropping stones like Nazi bomb planes dropping bombs…"

"Narnians engage in air war?" Wow. Nia never thought Narnian wars could be so… exciting. But then… maybe not. "Were you ever in an actual war, Tou?"

"Of course," Toulouse's tone was indignant. "I was in the last resistance against the White Witch before the Hundred-Year Winter. Not that it was a glorious battle. Whoever heard of glorious battles, anyway? It was rather messy, and it broke our hearts to have to fight with fellow Beasts."

"In Nia's tales, battles were always glorious," Aravis said.

"Those are stories," said Nia. "They're meant to be idealistic."

"Thalebald's sure taking his time," Aravis commented. "Please continue the Hunchback's tale. We've got the time."

* * *

"King Cor and his troops intend to recapture Anvard and drive the Calormenes out of Archenland today," Edmund said, tapping a map of Narnia and Archenland with his index finger. "With luck, they'll be just in time to help us with these Calormene blighters here. Honestly, Pete, I've never seen a larger army – we're easily outnumbered!"

"Are we still outnumbered even if Cor joins his forces with ours?" Peter asked a bit distractedly. Nia hadn't shown in his mirror today… Did she join Cor's campaign? She could get killed, or worse, enslaved. He'd give her a piece of his mind when she showed up.

"'Fraid so." Edmund gave his brother a small smile. "But we have the advantage of giving them a shock (however slight). Besides, an army being attacked on both sides is as disadvantaged as a man without his arms."

"By now, the spy will have given a full account of our battle plan to his masters," Peter mused. "They won't be expecting help from the south."

"You know, this would've been good, had the rebels decided to join us," said Edmund. "Now, they're engaging us in battle set the day after our battle with Khabir."

"Not good."

"Not good," agreed Edmund. "Why can't those blighters see sense, anyway?"

"Can't we postpone our skirmish with the rebels, Ed? Our warriors need rest and so do we."

"Right," yawned Edmund, as if to demonstrate how tired he was. "I wonder what's happening right now in Archenland. What did Nia say?"

"Nia," Peter savored the name as it slipped out of his lips. "No… She didn't say anything at all."

* * *

"And so they lived until the Destroyer of Delights and Sunderer of Societies took them away," finished Nia. She'd finished telling the Hunchback's tale and the story of Judar and his brothers to all the archers in the vicinity. Still no signal from Thalebald.

"What's going on?" asked Aravis, who was beginning to get worried. "What's taking him so long?"

"The people inside aren't ready yet," Nia answered back. "Do you want me to tell you the tale of The Wily Dalilah and her daughter, Zaynab?"

"What's it about?" asked one of the other archers.

"It's a story about how two women, a mother and her daughter, proved themselves more clever than all the men in the city and put those obnoxious chauvinist pigs in their proper places."

"Go on."

"So, in the city of Baghdad, during the reign of the great Caliph Harun al-Rasheed, the mayor appointed two wily young men to act as Guardians of the city. Now, it was believed that no one could match the cleverness and wiliness of these men. They were all wrong."

* * *

"And so the wily Dalilah and Zaynab lived in prosperity until Allah saw fit and finally laid them to rest."

"Clever swindler," Frieda laughed. "I wonder if I can pull that off in Anvard."

"King Cor'd have you beheaded," one of the other archers, Ingrid, laughed.

"Oh, I can always say Nia put me up to it," Frieda said, grinning. "After all, if it weren't for her, I wouldn't have the idea in the first place."

"I'm hungry," Toulouse complained. "When are we going to eat?"

"You're always hungry," said Nia, rolling her eyes. Then, she felt her stomach rumble. "But I'm hungry as well."

"There are some crackers here," said Ingrid. "Hang on, I'll pass them around…"

"Great," grumbled Toulouse. "Crackers."

"You know very well it's not advisable to run – or in this case, got to battle – with a full stomach," said Nia. "You might get appendicitis, and seeing as there're no proper tools for operation here, you could very well die."

"Hang on," said Krista, who was a handful years older than Aravis and Nia. "Look!"

From the top of the cliff, the archers had a pretty good bird's eye view of the city. And what they were viewing was certainly not good.

"They're burning houses!" Toulouse gasped. "What the hell…"

On the streets, they could barely make out Calormene soldiers in their garish orange uniforms leading civilians into a large square near the castle.

"They've discovered Thalebald!" Nia looked around to see Frieda using a spyglass.

"What?" Aravis grabbed the primitive telescope and looked through it. "Aslan help us!"

"I'm going to get Aslan!" Ingrid went on the trail to where Cor's army was waiting.

Nia grabbed the spyglass and trained it to the square. There, a dramatic scene was unfolding before her eye.

There was Thalebald, clad in only a loincloth. He was bloody, probably because the Calormenes had whipped him so. Nia had never seen anyone look so despairing, so hopeless… And so bloody. The men around him were tortured in pretty much the same way. Nia supposed that underneath the blood, there were several bruises. And they were standing on a wooden platform, and beside them was a primitive machine that looked terribly like a guillotine

"That's a Deathtrap," Aravis said. "It's used to behead people. Father used it a lot of times in … Oh no!"

No one knew what to say. How did everything go wrong?

"Please, we have to do something!" Aravis pleaded. She'd become more Archenlander than Calormene during the days she spent at the Camp. In fact, Cor had proclaimed her a citizen of Archenland (Cor would've offered citizenship to Nia as well, but Aslan opposed the idea). "We can't just leave them alone!"

"But what can we do?" asked Krista.

"We have to open the gates somehow…" Nia bit her lip thoughtfully.

"Is there any sort of spy entrance to the city?" asked Aravis.

"Well, yes," said Frieda thoughtfully. "The stone well near the east gate leads to an underground passage, which, in turn, leads to an entrance in the stables. It's cleverly hidden, so you won't be discovered unless you blunder about. It's also quite small… What the hell are you doing?"

Aravis had stripped off her breastplate and was now clad in her green gown. "I'm going into the city."

"You can't!" Nia was shocked and amazed. She knew Aravis was brave, but she underestimated the former Tarkheena's courage. But it was stupid, reckless sort of courage. "You're going to get caught!"

"I won't…"

"You stand out with that brown skin. And your pageboy clothes are at the Hermit's. We haven't the time to get back there!"

"We can't just let them die!" Aravis's black eyes bored into hers.

"I'll go then," Nia answered. She didn't really know what made her say that – who'd be stupid enough to risk going into the city now that Thalebald had been discovered? – but she knew she was committed to doing it now. She took off her breastplate and helmet and pocketed her hunting knife.

"But…" The words died on the archers' lips as she glared at them.

"Well, someone's got to do it, you know. Aravis stands out. And you ladies are all too big to fit into the well, am I correct?" The archers nodded. "Well then, it's up to me, I suppose."

"But what if you're caught?" Aravis asked, worried.

"I won't get caught," Nia said, injecting confidence in her voice – confidence she didn't feel. "Don't worry. Within two hours, I'll have that gate opened. I may be too late to save Thalebald, but at least his won't be a lost cause." She bit her lip.

"Calormenes are very ceremonious in their executions," Aravis said, her smile shaky. "The death ceremony's good for another few hours – we may yet save them."

"If I hurry up."

"If we hurry up," Toulouse said. "I promised your mother I'd take care of you, you know. She'd torture me in afterlife if she ever finds out I flouted my promise."

Aravis and the other archers hugged her tight, and she set off, down the trail, Toulouse guiding her.

* * *

"Do I look slave girl-ish enough?" Nia asked Toulouse after rubbing dirt from the well all over her arms and her face. She probably looked like Cinderella after cleaning the fireplace, but that was the point, anyway.

"Yes," said Toulouse. "Now can we enter the well now? We're wasting time here."

The well was on the east entrance, alright, and it was admirable camouflaged, covered with a wooden plank and strewn with leaves. It was also terribly small.

Okay," Nia took a deep breath. "Watch out for soldiers, will you?" She rolled up her sleeves and slid off the plank. Then, she peered into the well.

It was very dark inside. She couldn't see any footholds or ladders to use for her descent. How far did that well go, anyway?

"What the heck are you doing here?" Toulouse suddenly demanded. Nia whipped around to see Cor and Aravis walking briskly towards them. Aravis was in her Calormene pageboy clothes and Cor was wearing some sort of tunic instead of his gleaming armor, his blackeye standing out.

"Well, we couldn't let you people go without us," said Cor. "Besides, I'm King. I'm responsible for Thalebald, you know.""

"I had to ride Bree to get to the camp and get my pageboy clothes so we could follow," Aravis peered into the well. "How far does this thing go?"

"Oh, it's only a short distance," Cor said, rubbing dirt on his face and arms. "We could jump. After all, it's only a short fall. Besides, there's some sort of nest down there which sort of cushions the fall…"

"I'll go first," Toulouse volunteered. Then, he stood, poised on the rim of the well, and jumped down.

"Be careful, Tou," Nia called down, fearful for her friend Cat.

"It's alright," Tou replied. "It's a soft landing."

Nia could barely make out Toulouse's outline in the dark. "Okay, I'm next."

"I'll go next," Cor said emphatically. He looked so dirty no one would recognize them unless they examined his face closely.

"Fine," Nia wasn't exactly eager to go into the well, but she knew they were wasting time of they tarried. Cor jumped into the well. The girls heard an "oof!" and a thump as Cor landed on the nest.

"I'll go next," Aravis said shakily. Then she, too, jumped into the well.

"I'm last then," Nia murmured to herself. Oh how she wished Peter were here to guide her in the dark the way he did back home in Finchley when they were playing Blind Man's Buff and she kept tripping over something. She took a deep breath, clambered over the rim, and jumped.

For a few seconds she was in free fall, until she landed on something springy. She rolled off it and stood up. Suddenly, the entire place was bathed in orangish light.

"I found torch somewhere over there," Cor said, holding a torch and nodding ahead. " Lucky it's lighted. Come on."

They walked in a single file for the passage they were walking in was rather narrow. It had a stuffy, moldy smell. The tunnel had no branching paths and Cor, who was in the lead, led them easily through it.

"What's the tunnel for, anyway?" Nia asked, her hands touching the stone walls.

"It was used to hide Queen Merideth and her children the last time Calormenes managed to enter the city," Cor explained.

"Oh, I see…"

"We've changed battle tactics," Cor said as they walked along. "One of us has to signal Army and another must open the gates. Aslan said the Army'll march into the city and drive the Calormenes out instead of demanding surrender."

"And what will the last one do?" Nia asked.

"Oh, he'll save Thalebald and the rest…"

"He?" Aravis cocked an eyebrow.

"Well, you girls will have your fair share of action alright, what with having to rally Archenlanders to open the gates and having to get past the Calormenes on the battlements to shoot that flaming arrow…"

"We get the idea," Nia said hurriedly, not really wanting to think of that. "So, Cor gets to rescue Thalebald and the others, and then…"

"I'll go set the signal," Aravis volunteered. "I'm less likely to be killed immediately if I go up the battlements. With luck, I'll be able to shoot before they kill me."

"I'll go find someone to open the gates while you're at it," said Nia. "But how am I going to find someone to help me?"

"I'll go find someone to rally the Archenlanders for you," Cor offered. "I know someone here – an old friend. He's a neat chap, you know. You'll like him…"

"Thanks," Nia smiled gratefully.

Soon, Cor stopped. "We're here!" He was at the foot of carved stone steps leading to what seemed to be a trap door. He climbed the stairs then hissed, "I'll knock twice once it's safe for you to go out. Aravis, you mustn't be seen together with any of us, okay? And you signal at the point in the battlement nearest the gate. Wait until you see Nia, okay?"

Aravis nodded mutely. Nia could see she was practically shaking with fear. It seemed alright to say that you're going into Anvard when you're a safe distance away, on a cliff, with friends. It was another thing when you're actually doing it.

Cor lifted the trapdoor and eased himself out, then closed the trapdoor, extinguishing the torch and cloaking the girls in darkness.

Nia drew a sharp breath.

"It's alright," Toulouse said softly.

Then, they heard Cor rap the trapdoor twice.

"You go first," Nia said to Aravis.

"Okay." Aravis lifted the trapdoor, enabling a little light to enter the tunnel, and got out, closing the trapdoor after her.

"Are you ready?" Toulouse asked.

"I don't know," Nia whimpered. "I don't…"

Cor rapped twice at the door again.

"Ready or not," Toulouse looked at her, eyes glowing in the dark.

"Ready or not." Nia took a deep breath, opened the trapdoor and clambered out of the tunnel, the light momentarily blinding her.

**END OF CHAPTER**


	11. In Anvard

**CHAPTER 11: _In Anvard_**

"King Peter," a familiar voice said from his magic mirror, startling Peter out of his battle maps. He had been poring over them, wondering what tactic would best work. There was no news of the siege at Anvard nor had Nia appeared to him. It was already way past lunchtime.

"Aslan!" Peter rushed to the mirror immediately, relief filling his heart – the Lion usually had that effect on people. "Whatever happened to Cor's siege?"

"There has been certain complications," said Aslan. "Cor is currently trying his best to fix the problem and we are expecting a signal from his friend the Tarkheena anytime soon."

"But what about…"

"For the meantime, you must rally together all of your forces. The regaining of Archenland may be delayed. Narnians must fight for Narnia."

"But Narnians also fight against Narnians," Peter said, thinking glumly of the rebels.

"You must push aside your differences for the common good, Peter," Aslan said sternly. "Try again, do not give up."

"Yes my lord," Peter bowed. When he looked up, Aslan had already disappeared and he was staring at his own reflection. "But…"

Someone knocked on the door. "Sire," it was Oreius, "the Council is ready."

"I'll be right there," Peter called. He looked once more at the mirror, knowing very well no one would answer him. "But what about Nia?"

* * *

"You look ready to trip on your fit," Cor said as Nia regained her bearings.

"Oh, honestly," Nia saw Aravis walking briskly away from them, her gait very much like a soldier's. "Where are we supposed to go, anyway?"

They were in the stables, alright. But it was an old, run-down stable. There were no horses to be seen, but there was a lot of hay. The street facing them was empty as well, probably because the entire city had gone to the main square to watch the execution ceremony. It was about two and rather hot even though it was already autumn in that world.

"To my family's friend, Sir Thom," Cor said, setting off at a brisk pace. "But we'll have to go to the square first. I want to have a look at Thalebald before I leave my task for a while to help you out. Which, I must say, is more than you deserve after giving me a black eye."

"Whatever," Nia didn't really want to apologize to Cor. "It was your fault, anyway."

"I wasn't aware how fiery a certain female's temper is, nor was I aware of how strong she could hit a person."

"I'm not hot-tempered!"

"You were."

"Fine, I was. But you're a male chauvinist pig."

Cor stopped dead and looked at Nia, his face red with indignation. "You called me a what?"

"Okay, children." Toulouse hastily stepped between them. "Now's not the time to quarrel. We have a job to do."

"I could have you beheaded for that!"

"You won't," Nia said, her voice deadly calm. "You owe me your life, as well as Aravis's. Now, will you please just go on so we can get this over with?"

"She started it!"

"I most definitely did not!"

"Oh honestly," Toulouse rolled his eyes. "Heaven help us!"

"Fine," Cor said angrily, and they proceeded to the square in total silence.

Nia took in Anvard. It reminded her of the town of Stratford-upon-Avon back in England – the town where Shakespeare lived. It had a quaint medieval look about it. The castle was on their backs. Nia knew she'd have time to explore it later. For the meantime, she had to help Cor regain his kingdom. After that… Well, if she made it through this, she 'd help Peter and Susan and Edmund and Lucy protect Narnia from the treacherous Calormenes. She'd do anything to help them… But she was here now. The Archenlanders needed her. And her help was the nearest they'd get to a real Narnian assistance.

After all, she was Narnian, or at least part-Narnian, and a cousin to all humans in the North (except to the Pevensies). And she was close to the Pevensies…

"I'm sure Peter and the rest are worried now," Toulouse muttered from her feet.

"I can't very well tell them I'm joining the war, can I?"

"Yes, you could have."

"Yes, and have them make such a fuss over it. Honestly, I already know what Susan would say if she ever found out…"

For villagers witnessing an execution, the people of Anvard were sure pretty quiet. Nia had read in some novels how some people screamed for blood as wardens lead a man (or woman when she's accused of witchcraft) to the gallows. She knew how the citizens of Paris reacted as Marie Antoinette and Louis XVI were lead to the guillotine.

But those were criminals – or at least, to the people's minds, they were. These people were patriots trying to regain their freedom, and everyone knew it.

"You two!" Cor and Nia both jumped to their feet as a Calormene soldier approached them. "What is your business? And what are you doing out here at this ungodly hour? Everyone is supposed to be at the square! Who are you?"

"We were just going to the square," Nia said. "I had to use the privy."

"Me too," Cor said, a faint blush tinting his cheeks. "We were just going back."

"I asked you who you are!" The Calormene drew himself up. It was plain for Cor, Nia and Toulouse that this was a low-ranking officer. The higher-ups simply behaved with a little more dignity.

"I – I'm Ella, sir," Nia said meekly. Might as well be Cinderella while in here.

"And I'm Baard," Cor said, his voice slightly trembling.

"Go to the square now!" The soldier was flexing his muscles, which looked really freaky to Nia. "And if I see you two about, I'll have you whipped!"

"Yes sir!" they chimed together, and hurried on, trying very very hard not to look back.

"That was a mighty close call," Cor panted as they reached the square. "I wonder how Aravis is doing…"

"She's fine," Nia said, her fear not leaving her. "Now where's this Thom?"

"Haven't the foggiest," Cor said, looking around. Then, he gasped. "Look at those poor people!"

From below the platform, on the edge of the crowd around it, Thalebald and his fellows looked even worse than they did back from the cliff. Nia wanted to throw up. The crowd was solemn, quiet, their eyes downcast. They were here because they were forced to. Given the choice, Nia was sure they would've preferred not to notice this. The executioner was busy swinging incense back and forth. It had a sickening smell, a sharp contrast with incense from our world, whish smelled sweet in comparison.

Cor was looking at them with so much compassion, it was hard not to be moved by his love for his people.

"You'll get them out of this later," Nia whispered in his ear. "But for now, we have to find this Thom fellow first. Come on!"

Cor nodded, his face pale, averted his eyes from the guillotine, and disappeared into the crowd. Nia followed suit, with Touolouse pattering after their heels.

"Excuse me," Nia said hastily as she bumped into people. "Excuse me…" Cor plowed ahead, his gray-blue eyes scanning the crowd. He hadn't had Peter's height or built, so he easily wove into the crowd, with Nia after him, who, at the best of times, can be best described as awkward – she kept bumping into people.

"He's not there," Cor said wearily some minutes later. He, Nia and Toulouse, were back in the streets again. They were hiding behind a large, defiled statue of King Dearn the Wise, Cor's great great great great… grandfather. "I'm so sorry, Nia."

"Why are you apologizing to me?" Nia cocked an eyebrow. "If anyone's supposed to be apologizing, it should be me… I'm sorry for the black eye."

"I'm sorry for being such a prig."

"Oh honestly you two," Toulouse hissed. "We're wasting time!" Then, he froze, looking up at someone behind the two children. Nia and Cor looked over their shoulders and froze.

Behind them was a tall man, dressed shabbily, with dark, flowing hair and a long beard. He had a great, ruddy face and the body of a well-built man gone to seed.

"What are you children doing out here?" he boomed, though not loudly. "You'll get whipped!"

"That voice…" Cor scrunched his face, then his expression brightened. "Thom?"

* * *

"We're going to send emissaries to the rebel base at Ettinsmoor," Edmund said to Susan as they drank their afternoon tea. "Again."

"Aslan said we must try again," Peter argued. "And I agree with him. We need their help. Archenland's assistance will be delayed. I don't know what their problem is, but their reconquest of Anvard has, apparently, hit a major snag."

"I say talking with those rebels is a major waste of time," Susan said sipping her tea daintily. "I mean, it's not as if they'd listen. We should be doing other, more fruitful things, like helping Archenland."

"As if we could," Edmund cut in. "What with the bulk of the Calormene army encamped between us."

"You're all so gloomy," Lucy said, looking out of the window. "Honestly, why are you so worried? Aslan's on our side! We'll win for sure!"

"What did Nia say?" Susan asked.

"That's just it," said Peter, worried and a bit frustrated. "I haven't heard from her in ages!"

"He means yesterday morning," Edmund said, a smile playing on his lips.

"Whatever." Peter glared at Edmund. "A lot could've happened since then. Aslan wouldn't say much more! And he left before I could ask about Nia."

"You're in love with her," Susan said, taking another sip, her pinkie stuck out. "Why fight it?"

"I'm not," Peter said, feeling hot and turning red inspite of himself. He stood up and marched out of Queen Susan's drawing room.

"He is," Lucy nodded in agreement. "He really is."

"He's all muddled," Edmund said, looking at the door through which Peter made his exit. "He's blind, that man."

* * *

"So, we're all set then?" Cor said more than half an hour later. He and Thom had managed to gather around eighteen men, most of them civilians trained to fight, into a cottage. The eighteen men were divided into three, not including Sir Thom. One group would go up the walls and provide the necessary distraction to keep Aravis safe. Another would go with Nia and knock out the guards at the gates. The last would go with Cor to save their soldiers and to cause enough ruckus to distract the soldiers from the walls and the gates. Once the riot at the square has begun ("With the citizens helping us, I hope," Cor said), Nia and Aravis would have to work fast, with Nia and her motley troop knocking the guards out and Aravis shooting her flaming arrow.

"We're all set," the men chorused, raising their swords (Thom had a large collection of swords, all of them heavy). They were a rowdy group, and rather disheveled too. Definitely not the warriors Nia'd imagined delivering Archenland from her conquerors.

"We'll go in pairs so we won't be obvious," Cor said, brandishing the sword Sir Thom had loaned him. Then, he looked at the old knight. "I trust you will keep Aravis and Nia safe, old chap."

"What do you mean?" Sir Thom was going with Nia and Toulouse?

"Oh honestly, do you think I'm not going to try to make it safer for you two, Nia?"

Nia bit her lip. She was touched by Cor's concern… No doubt Peter and Edmund would've done the same for her. "Thanks. But what about you?"

"I may only have risen to squire-hood, Narnia, but I am trained to fight," Cor said, smiling nervously. "Please don't take offense…"

"I'm not offended."

"Well, you're not exactly and expert sword-wielder, aren't you? I mean, you're great with knives, but you're no warrior. You're too concerned with those you've wounded though they don't deserve it. I shudder to think what your reaction will be when you've killed the first time. And Aravis…"

I'm only being humane, Nia practically replied, but she bit it back. "Thanks. And I promise we'll deliver Aravis to you safe and sound."

"I will guard the ladies with my life, Your Majesty," Sir Thom said, kneeling before Cor, who looked sort of majestic though dirty. "I will not let any harm come to them."

"Aye!" chorused the others.

"Imagine them singing 'Ninety-Nine Bottles of Ale on the Wall'," Toulouse said, smirking. "I mean, don't they look sort of piratey?"

"Yes, they do," Nia chuckled.

"I will go with you to the ends of the earth, Milady," Sir Thom said to her, bowing. She curtsied.

"Well, best be off," Cor said. Then, he grasped Nia's hand. "May Aslan and your parents guide you, Nia. And good luck… You'll need it."

"You too," Nia felt an odd throbbing in her throat. "May the Lion watch over you."

* * *

"We're in luck," Toulouse said, peering up the walls. He, Sir Thom and Nia, were hidden behind a haystack. "They're not so many."

"And there are only four guards at the gate," Nia whispered. "I didn't know the Calormenes are so lax with their security."

"Look at those axes, milady," Sir Thom pointed at the weapons the guards were holding. The blades gleamed eerily in the sunlight. "They're quite enough with just two guards wielding them. But you're right, the Calormenes are a bit easy on their security."

"Arrogance," Toulouse snorted. "They're just confident no one would try to conquer them today. Or any other day, for that matter."

"Do you see the Lady Aravis?"

"Well, she's utterly indistinguishable from other pageboys, isn't she?" Toulouse said. "I'm going up there." He began padded out of their hiding place and climbed stealthily up the battlements.

"Be careful," Nia murmured, half to herself. "Be careful."

It seemed like ages before Toulouse came back. "She's ready," he reported. "I dunno how she managed, but she's already wrapped the arrow point with cloth dipped in oil. She's getting a tough time hiding it, though. There are about five soldiers up there. We need more men. They're more equipped than ours."

"And they're trained in the arts of war as well," Sir Thom mused. "Oh dear, oh dear."

"And they're only slightly outnumbered…"

"Well, how do we open the gates?" Nia asked. The gate was very large and it was layered with a portcullis made of solid iron and a heavy, wooden door. Nia knew there wasn't a moat. She couldn't help but compare Anvard with Cair Paravel. The latter was a city within a castle, and it was very open. No portcullises, no wooden gates…

Whoever among her ancestors built Cair Paravel, she most definitely was most proud of him – or her.

"The gates are heavy, Mila…"

"Nia."

"Nia. Well, the gates are very heavy. See those pulleys over there."

Nia did. The simple machines were beside the portcullis, laden with heavy-looking chains attaching them to the portcullis. The wooden double doors beyond would have to be pushed. "Yup."

"It would take four men just to wind it up," Toulouse gasped.

"And four more to open the gates," Sir Thom nodded. "This is going to be unpleasant… Nia, are you sure you can handle this?"

Nia nodded. "I'm fine with it."

"You look sick," Toulouse noted. Not that he had to mention that. Nia already felt cold and clammy enough.

Then, suddenly, there were shouting coming from the square. It sounded horribly barbaric to Nia's ears. It sounded a lot like a skirmish…

Then, as if by unspoken agreement, two guards from the gate and two from the walls proceeded to the square, wielding their battle scythes menacingly. They passed by the haystacks, not noticing the Northerners hidden behind those.

"Well then," Nia said, watching the two remaining knights watching the gates, feeling more than slightly sick. "Position yourselves. Let's do this!"

* * *

Everything went by in a blur to Nia's eyes. She could dimly remember six of the Northerners climbing up the walls unnoticed and knocking out the three remaining guards. She saw Aravis drew her flaming arrow, signaling Aslan and the army to come near…

After seeing Aravis signal Cor's army outside, Nia, Toulouse and the Archenlanders attacked the hopelessly outnumbered guards at the gates. It wasn't exactly a battle. The stocky and ruddy-faced Anvard men simply beat the daylights out of the two men. They didn't even make noise – not much, anyway.

Whoever said that there was strength in numbers ought to be sanctified, Nia thought grimly as she looked up. Aravis, in her pageboy clothes, looked down on them and gave them a questioning thumbs up. Nia replied likewise. The former Tarkheena gave a small laugh and went back to her post. From this side of the wall, none saw her let fly a flaming arrow, but a moment later, she was back, her lustrous black her flying, waving her arrow triumphantly. The men with her remained up there, manning the walls, while Nia and the men by the gates began trying to turn the handle of the crank with the chain attached to the portcullis. It had a very stiff handle indeed – or maybe the portcullis (which was made of solid iron) was too heavy. They had a difficult time lifting it, but they did. Nia tried very hard not to think of what was happening in the square. Sooner than later, the guards would return. Maybe they already had Cor…

No, she told herself sternly as she heaved and put her weight on the crank. Stop it. He won't die. The people support…

Slowly, steadily, the machinery began to turn… The portcullis was slowly lifted. The moment the iron gate was lifted high enough for a very tall man to pass through, four of the men from the walls descended to the gates, passed under the iron spikes, and pushed open the wooden gates. Nia and the men still lifted the portcullis.

"My arms hurt," Nia whined to Toulouse. "And you aren't doing anything?"

"I'm acting as your lookout, silly," Toulouse said. "I'm a cat! You don't expect me to turn the wheel, do you? They're coming!"

Nia heard it too, soft at first, and then louder, the sound of hooves and feet pounding on the ground, growing louder and louder, dwarfing the din over Anvard Square.

Cor's Royal Army charged into the city, Aslan and Bree at the lead, followed by the Hermit, brandishing a sword in one arm, holding the blue pennant of Archenland (with its crest of lightning striking a mountain) in the other. The army rushed past them, into the heart of the city, where Cor and his motley crew, most probably assisted by the citizens, were revolting from the Calormenes. It was like everything Nia imagined, yet quite unlike.

"It's beautiful, isn't it? You watch… It's gonna get better," Sir Thom said, leaning on the machinery and wiping sweat from his forehead.

"Yes," Nia said, massaging her arms. "It looks beautiful!" _We're winning! We're winning!_

**END OF CHAPTER**

* * *

_**AN: **I'm really really sorry for the late update! I've been so busy lately I haven't had time to post! From now on, my updates will be pretty much irregular, though still roughly once a week. I'm really, really sorry..._


	12. Cor's Coronation

**CHAPTER 12: _Cor's Coronation_**

"How do I look?" Aravis asked Nia, twirling in front of the full-length mirror in the room they shared in Anvard castle. It had been four days since Cor's army stormed and reconquered Anvard and the surrounding area, sending the remaining Calormene army back to their home across the desert. Today was his coronation day, with Aslan officiating the entire ceremony and the Hermit crowning the young King. Today was also the day Cor was to make Aravis a citizen of Archenland and a Lady Companion of the Order of the Fortress. So, all in all, this was pretty momentous. Cor offered Nia the title of a Lady too, but Aslan stepped in.

"You look stunning." Nia said admiringly, looking at the ecstatic, excited Aravis. The former Tarkheena was wearing a light blue silk sari with a pink sash made solely for her. Her dark hair was pulled back in a thick plait, ornamented with flowers and a diamond clip Cor's mother used to wear.

"Thanks," Aravis's eyes were shining. "I can't wait!"

"You can't for Cor to sweep you off your feet with his suave, manly dancing?" Nia straightened the creases on the rose-colored gown she was wearing. She'd been dressed for the past hour and was lounging lazily on her bed. "You know very well he can't dance to save his own life!"

"Not that, silly," Aravis blushed. "I'm excited about being… well… being a lady knight!"

"Yeah," said Nia, feeling a wee bit jealous of her friend. "Lucky you."

"Aslan has other plans for you, Nia," Aravis said rather absently, still examining her reflection in the mirror. "I'm sure…" Then she turned around. "Where's Cor, anyway? He's supposed to wait for us! And do something with your hair! We can't have it all bushy and tangled…"

Nia sighed as she let Aravis brush her very unmanageable hair, not answering the Tarkheena's question about Cor. At this very moment, Cor (who had put off doing so since he was too busy with reinstating his kingdom, or something along those lines) was talking to the Pevensies. Nia avoided the Mirrormere like the plague ever since establishing her room with Aravis here in castle Anvard. The castle looked like the stereotypical stonewalled castles she'd seen in Scotland. At least somebody lived here…

Right now, Cor would be telling Peter how she volunteered to go straight into the lion's (no offense meant, Aslan, Nia thought hurriedly) den and how she had the gates opened.

She didn't want to know what Peter's reaction would be. She didn't tell them and she didn't want them to know. Not that she was ashamed of what she did – she wasn't. It's just that she didn't need the harping Peter and (heaven forbid!) Susan would give her. She knew Lucy would probably admire her for that. Edmund would be both awed and amused. Susan would act all snooty and tell her it wasn't proper. And Peter… Why would Peter berate her?

Because he's supposed to be my big brother, Nia thought a little bitterly. Because he's supposed to be just that - my big brother..

"Ow!" Nia gave a startled cry as Aravis tugged at her hair hard, pulling her back into the real world. "Could you be any less gentle?"

"You know you're pretty, Nia, but how are boys going to notice you if you have this… this tangled hair! This will not do. At state your hair's in, I think you'll need the Carvala to permanently tame it."

"Carvala?" Nia remembered her Mum telling her Carvala was some sort of flower, and the nymphs, both naiads and dryads, used it to wash their hair. And it could only be found in Ettinsmoor. "Oh, honestly, Ari…"

"Oh honestly, Nia," Aravis rolled her eyes. "Hang on, I'll braid your hair instead…"

* * *

"She did WHAT?" Peter demanded. He and his siblings were sitting in front of his Mirror, conversing with Archenland's uncrowned King.

"She joined the battle?" Susan's nose was wrinkled with distaste.

"This is so like her," Edmund laughed. "Don't you remember how she often said she'd make a good pirate even though she's a girl? She always wanted to wield a sword…"

"Well, she did not wield a sword," Cor said, the corners of his mouth turned up into a smile. "She didn't even join the battle proper, so don't worry."

"But still, that is so… she's so brave," Lucy's eyes were shining with admiration. "Like… Like a warrior princess!"

Peter looked at her, alarmed. Susan raised eyebrows. Edmund froze. And Cor… Well, he didn't notice anything at all.

"If this were ordinary times, I would've invited you to come over to the coronation ball, which starts in about," Cor winced, "an hour. But then, this isn't, so I'll just keep in touch. And count on our assistance in the war. I, as King of Archenland, Lord of Castle Anvard, promise you that, and rest assured I will honor the age old alliance between Archenland and," here, he smiled, seeming amused at something, "Narnia."

"May we please speak with Nia, Your Majesty?" Lucy asked as politely as she could. "We haven't talked to her for ages."

"I'm afraid," then Cor winced at something, then grinned, "Aravis is torturing her right now. Oh, not really, Queen Susan… It's for the ball, you see.

"It has been a pleasure conversing with you, Your Majesty," Peter said, bowing formally. Edmund followed suit, and the girls curtsied. Cor bowed back, before his face disappeared and they were staring at their reflections once more.

"I cannot believe that girl," Susan huffed as she sat back down her chair. "That's so improper, going into the city alone!"

"She wasn't alone," Edmund said. "Remember, King Cor and Lady Aravis were with her, not to mention this… Sir Thom."

"Well, she could've told us, couldn't she?" Peter asked, more than a little bit angry. "She could've been killed, and we wouldn't have known about it!"

"When are we going to send emissaries to Ettinsmoor, anyway?" Susan asked, changing the subject. Edmund smiled gratefully at her. The Gentle Queen may have been indignant at Nia's "childishness" but at least she knew when to stop – and how to put the reins on the High King when he's mad.

Peter seemed distracted and not magnificent at all. "Tonight… I'm sending Mister Tumnus and the Beaver. We're too busy with the war to go ourselves…"

"Is Beaver alright?" Susan asked. She loved the Beavers and was most upset when Mister Beaver was ambushed. "I mean, has he recovered enough to make this journey?"

"He's alright now," Peter sighed. "And as enthusiastic as ever. At least the wolves won't kill him…"

"Well, the least we can do is send them off as far as the marshes," Lucy said, putting on her best "Peter, please…" look. "Can I please come with them as far as the marshes? Please, Peter. I promise I won't persuade them to let me go to Ettinsmoor!"

"Oh, honestly, Lu…" Susan began.

"I'm not going to get myself killed. You can send Edmund with me! Or you can go with me yourself! Or Oreius, if you're busy. Please, Peter…"

"Oh, all right," Peter sighed, giving in to his youngest sibling, as usual. "I'll go with you myself. Ed, keep the Council in rein while we're away, will you? And you too, Susan?"

Edmund nodded.

"Nasty business, this war," Susan grumbled as she and Lucy and Edmund trooped out of the room, leaving Peter alone to ponder on his feelings.

He admired her strength. She was not just intelligent and beautiful but brave as well. She was perfect, and he considered himself far from it. But he needed to see her soon… Surely, with the trouble in Archenland over, she'd come back to Cair Paravel?

With a frustrated grunt, Peter went out of his room.

* * *

"At least," Aravis said to Nia before they entered the throne room, "you look more attractive now."

Aravis had somehow managed to braid Nia's hair, which, Toulouse said, was proof of the Tarkheena's "supernatural powers". Nia, still massaging her sore scalp, grumbled as she went in.

The throne room was a large but simple stone room with a large marble throne at its head. The marble contrasted starkly with the stone, but then, there you go… There was a smaller throne at its right, probably meant for the Queen. The walls were decorated with banners and tapestries of the seal of Cor's House. Nia and Aravis hurriedly moved to the front of the crowd, nearest to the throne. Toulouse jumped lazily in Nia's arms.

:"I haven't witnessed a coronation since," Toulouse sighed, "well, never."

"Me too," Nia felt like giggling. She hadn't seen the crown yet, but she expected it to be as attractive as the crowns Peter and Edmund wore. She blushed, remembering how handsome Peter looked wearing his crown. "Me too."

The throne room was filled with friends and citizens, all there to witness the crowning of their new ruler.

"I feel weird," Aravis admitted, fanning herself though the room was quite cool. "I mean, after this, Cor's a proper King now, and…"

"He'll still be the same," Nia assured him. "You're still perfectly licensed to bully him…"

Suddenly, trumpets sounded, and a crier by the door said, "His Majesty, Cor, son of Lune, son of Sol!"

Nia and Aravis craned their necks to look at Cor. Aravis gave a gasp.

Cor looked positively dashing, walking down the aisle beside Aslan, clad in robes of royal blue, his sword beside him. At the opposite aisle, Nia could see Bree and Hwin goggling at him. Cor's dark hair looked positively lustrous and his blue-gray eyes gleamed with excitement.

"How can you bully someone who looks like that?" Aravis said, gaping openly. Nia bit back a laugh. Aravis was besotted with the King!

Cor had climbed up the steps leading up to the throne and stood there, facing the crowd.

"Archenland," Aslan said, his deep voice majestic. "I give you King Cor the Courageous, by right and by conquest, King of all Archenland."

The Hermit stepped forward holding a crimson pillow. Atop the pillow was a gleaming golden circlet with an oval blue diamond at its center. It was a simple crown, really, but it set off Cor's good looks. Cor bent forward and The Hermit placed the crown on top of his head. Cor stood up and beamed at them all.

"May your wisdom grace us until the stars rain down from the heavens," Aslan said. "Archenland, Hail King Cor."

"Hail King Cor!" The entire room chorused with gusto. "Hail King Cor! Hail King Cor!"

It seemed to last forever… The ceremony was so beautiful. Nia wondered what the Pevensies' coronation had been like. She was sure it was similar to this. Of course, there were different people involved, but still, it was a coronation.

"My first task as a King," Cor said, his voice loud and clear, "will be to knight people who did great service to the realm." The Hermit stepped up again, this time holding a large sword, much larger than the one he usually used. Its hilt was ornately carved and bejeweled and its scabbard depicted some scenes of an event Nia couldn't tell from her distance. "Please step forward, Aravis, formerly of Calormen." Aravis grinned giddily at Nia, and stepped up to Cor, kneeling on one knee the moment she reached him.

"Dubbing," Toulouse muttered. "I've never seen the likes of this since King Thorn knighted Sir Pere of Lantern Waste, and I was a newly-born kitten then."

"Aravis, I declare you a citizen of Archenland and," here he drew the sword from its scabbard, revealing a gleaming blade, "a Lady Companion of the Order of the Fortress." He tapped her shoulders with the sword. "Rise, Lady Aravis of Archenland. May you serve the Kingdom for a long, long time…"

"Look at the way he looks at her," Toulouse whispered.

"Yes," Nia nodded, more to herself than to the Cat. She had no doubt as to who would fill that throne beside Cor's in a matter of five years or so.

* * *

The dubbing ceremony lasted longer than it should, with Aravis grinning like a lunatic beside Nia the whole time. The ball after that was more a party than a ball. Sure, there were court dances, but still, it was pretty much happier than the balls Nia had gone to back in America. Lots of young men danced with her, including the soldier Dash and Cor. Surprisingly, the King wasn't that bad a dancer after all, and they had a jolly time twirling and prancing around the ballroom.

"Your scalp still hurts?" He asked her as he twirled her around.

"Not so much now," Nia admitted, laughing. "You talked with Peter?"

"Yes," Cor said, smiling. "And he looked as if he were about to explode! Honestly, he's so worried about you!"

"Was he really?" Her efforts to keep herself from blushing were all in vain. "I mean…"

"Of course he was. They all were. Hey, I heard your shrieks, you know."

"My what?"

"Your shrieks of pain. Presumably when Aravis was combing your hair. She doesn't give up, does she?"

"No," Nia sighed. "Not even on my hair." Then, she noticed Aravis sitting in one corner, smiling happily. She looked so beautiful. Cor noticed this too, judging from the way moved Nia over to get a good view. "Oh honestly, Cor, if you want to dance with her, then ask her!"

"Are you sure?" Cor's eyebrows shot up. "What about you?"

"I'll be alright. I'm tired after all. We already did five dances…"

Cor led Nia to the place where Aravis was sitting and offered his hand to the new Lady. "Care to dance with me?"

"I, uh…" Aravis looked uncertainly at Nia, who kicked her shins (luckily, Cor didn't notice this because of the skirts). "Why not?" She gave her hand to Cor and they proceeded to the dance floor.

"The perfect couple, huh?" Toulouse said, startling Nia.

"Where have you been?"

"To the kitchens. You won't believe how good the things they throw away are."

"That's disgusting!"

"Hey, there weren't any food for Cats during the feast. I got hungry. Everyone was here…"

"Really, Tou."

"Aslan wants to talk to you."

"What? Where?"

"He's outside. He's about to leave for… wherever he's going, anyway. He wants to talk to both of us. Let's go!"

* * *

"Be careful, will you?" Susan asked Peter as he mounted his horse. It was already past dinnertime. "And take care of Lucy?"

"Oh, come off it, Su, we'll be back before dawn!" Peter rode to the head of the company. Lucy was already there, sitting on her own horse. Mister Tumnus, Beaver and Oreius were right behind them. "Alright, let's go."

And with that, the company galloped as fast as they could towards the marshes. There was no time to lose. The battle was fast approaching.

* * *

"Aslan," Nia said, curtsying. She and Toulouse met the Lion outside the city walls. It was rather scary outside the lights of Anvard but somehow, it felt safer with Aslan around.

"Daughter of Eve," said Aslan, "as you well know, the battle of Narnia against the Calormene conquerors is fast approaching."

Nia nodded. Hadn't Edmund talked about that over and over (and over and over) again?

"Go then, Narnia, to aid your nation, your namesake. Go to Ettinsmoor and ask the Narnians there to fight for their country."

"Weren't they the White Witch's army?"

"What is left of them," Aslan agreed. "But they did not serve Jadis because they wanted to. You will leave tomorrow morning."

"But the battle's in two weeks. How on earth are we going to get there on time?"

Suddenly, she heard hooves pounding the ground. She turned around and saw a dark warhorse trotting towards them – Bree.

"What is it my Lord?"

"Serve your nation, Bree," said the Great Lion. "Go to the North with Narnia and Toulouse. Bring them to Ettinsmoor."

"As you wish, my Lord."

"But there's an army out there," Toulouse said. "What about them?"

"You will take a path to the West," said Aslan. Then, he touched the ground ahead of him with his right paw. The spot glowed briefly and Nia could make out a small hand mirror. "Take this, Narnia, and use this to converse with anyone you wish to talk to."

Nia picked it up. It was a tiny hand mirror, gilded with gold and platinum. "It's beautiful. Thanks, Aslan!"

Aslan nodded, and walked away from them, into the darkness.

"He's not a tame lion, you know," Toulouse said as they headed back to the city. "But he's a good one. And I've no doubt we'll see him again."

"I'm beat," Bree said. "I think I'll go straight to sleep. I suggest you do the same… After all, it's a tiring journey. I'll just tell Cor in the morning. It's not like I'm his horse, you know. I'm a free Narnian…"

Nia nodded, thinking how she'd tell Aravis that she'd have to leave by morning. And wondering how the Pevensies would react once she'd told them she wasn't coming back to Cair Paravel. Not yet.

**END OF CHAPTER**


	13. Through the Looking Glass

**CHAPTER 13: _Through the Looking Glass_**

"I can't believe you're going to leave us," Aravis sighed as she and Cor accompanied Nia, Toulouse and Bree out of the city. "And we can't even accompany you at least as far as… oh, I don't know…"

"Well, you know we're going to have to come to this sometime," said Nia, patting Aravis's back gently. Besides, once this is over, I'm going to visit you here."

"A promise I expect you to honor," Cor said, leading his charger. "We'll take you as far as the Pass, but we'll have to turn around after that. I mean, we still have an army to form and a navy to rebuild…"

Nia sighed. Much as Cor stressed he had tons to do, the more his melancholy showed. The moment Aravis went back to their rooms after the coronation party (Nia thought it was too jolly to be called a ball) escorted by the King herself, Nia blurted out the news. The two Archenlanders took this extremely well, if a little bit sadly. Of course, it isn't as if there was anything they could do once Aslan himself had given the order. Besides, they've accepted the fact that Nia and the two Animals were Narnian through and through.

It was still dark and everyone was still pretty sleepy, but Bree insisted they have an early start. They agreed to ride only once they were out of the city so they could avoid disturbing the slumbering populace. Cor was still flushed from his coronation. At least he didn't drink mulled mead even though every man in the room was downing it like water. Not much, anyway.

"Let's get this over with, shall we?" Aravis mounted Hwin and set off in a brisk trot. The rest followed suit.

Bree carried (in addition to Nia and Toulouse) a pack containing Nia's change of clothes (a shirt, breeches and socks) and food to last the three of them for three days.

"At this rate," Hwin said, "we'll be at the Pass before morning tea."

Nine, Nia thought to herself. She didn't expect to have to say goodbye to Cor, Aravis and Hwin so soon.

"Wow," Toulouse muttered sarcastically. "Aren't they in a hurry to get rid of us?"

"Toulouse!" Nia admonished. But still, she couldn't help but feel the mission Aslan had assigned them was impossible to accomplish. Sure, she really cared about the rebels even though their ancestors helped murder her maternal grandparents and relatives. But honestly, if they wouldn't listen to the High King of Narnia, why on earth would they listen to a Horse, a former Royal Cat and a basically ordinary girl from England? "We need to get started early if we're ever going to get there in time!"

"You know, I'd rather you use our ships and sail right to Ettinsmoor," Cor said, his voice casual. East. By the sea. The maps they'd pored over before leaving told Nia that. It was the fastest way, but the Archenland navy was still undergoing major repair and recruitment. Cor was trying his best to remove any trace of Calormenes there.

"The gates of Anvard are always open to you anytime you decide to visit," Aravis said. "I'd much rather have you around, but there you go… Just visit okay? Even if I have to drag you by the ears from Cair Paravel to Anvard."

If we actually live to do so, Nia thought, her current pessimistic mood getting the better of her.

"But we still have time for another story," Aravis said. "I mean, you haven't told me one in ages, Nia. And we're already done with Arabian Nights…"

"Oh, alright," Nia said, sounding a lot like giving in. "Well, there's this story I really liked. When I was really small, my mother used to tell this to me. And when I was old enough to read, this was the very first novel I read."

"She was about five then," Toulouse chuckled.

"What's it about?" Cor asked. Though he'd had little time to listen to Nia's stories for the last few weeks (ever since they entered Archenland), he loved them and listened whenever he could.

"Well, it's about a magical land…"

"Like Narnia?" Aravis asked, then laughed. "Even with us, Narnia is a fantasy land, with its talking animals and half-humans."

"Something like that," Nia said, smiling inspite of her glum mood. "But really quite different – but it does feature Talking Beasts. This is a story about a Tin Man who seeks a heart, a Lion who desires courage, a Scarecrow who wishes to have a brain, and…"

"And?"

"And a girl who only wants to return home, to go back to the people she loved," Nia said, warming herself up. She'd never told this story to anyone since she was ten, before she left for America.

"Ah, memories," Toulouse intoned. Nia silenced him with a look.

"Dorothy," Nia began, "lived in Kansas with Uncle Henry, who was a farmer, and Aunt Em, who was the farmer's wife…"

* * *

"I told you we'd be back before you knew it," Peter said teasingly to Susan as they made their way to their private dining area with Edmund and Lucy. It was a fine morning and he was hungry.

"I never said I didn't believe it," Susan huffed. "But I really don't think you should've sent Mister Beaver to Ettinsmoor with only Mister Tumnus and some marsh wiggles to accompany him. After all, he's just recovered…"

"He will be fine, Su," Peter said firmly. "Besides, he did volunteer for the job."

"And you're High King. You overrule everyone except Aslan."

"That was my first time seeing a marsh wiggle," Lucy said hurriedly, with the obvious intent of interrupting her older siblings before a nasty argument could begin.

"What do they look like?" Edmund asked. "I mean, I've heard of them, but I've yet to go to the marshes…"

"Well, they're tall for one thing," Lucy said, injecting enthusiasm into her voice. "And they have webbed hands and feet."

"Like ducks?" Susan asked, joining in.

"Well, not quite," said Lucy. "But they live in wigwams, like those Indians…"

"Native Americans," Edmund corrected automatically.

"Whatever," said Lucy. "They're wonderful, really…"

"Oh honestly, Lu," Peter said, laughing. "They're the dreariest creatures I've ever met!"

"Peter!" his sisters gasped in unison.

"You shouldn't say that," Lucy said, shocked.

"You're High King!" As usual, Susan was all for proper decorum.

"Well they are rather pessimistic," Peter said. But really, those marsh wiggles were the wettest of the wet blankets he'd ever met. And annoyingly superstitious to boot.

"But they really are brave people," Lucy said, glaring daggers at Peter.

"They are," Peter was tired. He didn't get the chance to sleep, hurrying to reach Cair Paravel before lunchtime. At least Lucy managed to fall asleep on the saddle.

Lucy smiled beatifically at Peter.

"Any news of the Calormene army?" Peter sat down at the head of the table.

"They're already encamped at the Dancing Lawn," Edmund said. "And the Trees say they're the mightiest army they've ever seen."

"Oreius said that numbers don't win a battle," Lucy said.

"Well bully Oreius," Peter grumbled. " Anything I don't already know?"

"The merpeople report a fleet of Calormene ships preparing to set sail," Susan said with a wry smile. "They managed to swim as far as Tashbaan. Let's hope those Calormenes don't decide to make a stop at Archenland."

"They're probably planning to attack Cair Paravel by sea," Edmund mused. "This makes things even more difficult. We haven't set up a proper navy yet…"

"We have the merpeople, haven't we?" Lucy asked. "And also those… whales."

"It would've been much better if we have a proper navy – I'm talking about the ships here, Lu. But then, Archenland's got the mightiest navy I've ever seen!"

"That was then," Susan said tartly. "This is now."

"Susan!" Lucy said. She'd never been able to accept that Susan was a wet blanket – much like marsh wiggles, really. "Don't say that!"

"Have you got any news of Nia?" Peter was concerned about her. He hadn't seen her for what seemed like ages! She really helped keep him sane nowadays – did she have to go too?

"Oh," Edmund said. "Well, no. But the Hermit did contact us and said Cor, Aravis, Nia and some Talking Beasts have gone somewhere…"

"The Hermit talked to _me_," Susan interrupted. "And he said Nia and her Cat – Toulouse, I think – and that Horse, Bree, are going back to Narnia for some reason. King Cor and the Lady Aravis are escorting them until the boundary."

"You mean the Pass," Edmund interjected.

"Whatever."

"You think they're going back to Cair Paravel?" Lucy's eyes were shining with anticipation. Peter listened keenly, his heart beating fast.

"Well, I don't know," Susan said thoughtfully. "If she is, don't you think she'd have given us a fair warning?"

"Well, she hasn't talked to us since the day before they went to battle," Edmund said. "I think she's avoiding us."

Peter shoveled a forkful of eggs in his mouth, swallowed hard, and said, "Why would she do that?"

"Um," Susan raised an eyebrow, "because you're going to give her the grief once she does?"

"As if you're not going to give her a talking-to, Su," Edmund rolled his eyes. "One of those lectures on – I don't know – how women aren't for battles? How your kind is so delicate for such violent work?"

Nia was avoiding them – him. Peter downed his breakfast like it was water. He didn't know what to think. He couldn't concentrate on the war – not with the knowledge that Nia, his bestfriend, was avoiding him.

"Peter, are you alright?" said Susan, looking at him worriedly.

"I'm fine," Peter said with more conviction than he felt. "I have to go. Council meeting…"

His siblings stared at him like he was some display in a museum.

"The Council meeting's not until after lunch," Edmund said.

"I better go get some sleep, then." Peter rushed out of the room – he was always doing that nowadays. Maybe Nia tried to contact him and he wasn't around. But then, if she was going back to Narnia, how could she? Not without a Mirrormere.

The moment he entered his room, he thought he wasn't going to make it to the bed. He was too sleepy, his eyelids felt like lead.

He hit his canopy like lumber falling on the ground. He was fast asleep the moment he did so, his last thoughts on the return of his bestfriend.

* * *

"Okay," Nia said thoughtfully as she, Toulouse and Bree sat under one of the trees dotting the foot of the Archenland-Narnian mountains. They'd already taken their lunch and the sun was shining high overhead. The three of them were looking at a map of Narnia. "So we're already somewhere here, past Mount Stormness. I think we should be able to move away from the mountains and into the Western Wild by tomorrow morning."

Bree had already made their path for them after they left the Pass. They were to journey west, along the mountain range, and then turn west. There, they would strike for Cauldron Pool, somewhere in the Lantern Waste – Toulouse and Bree knew where that was. The landmark would be a lamppost tree – Nia had to ask thrice to make sure Toulouse wasn't kidding her. From Cauldron Pool, they would sail upriver to the White Witch's castle. Not that anyone really knew where that was – it would probably be all melted anyway – but Toulouse made an approximation.

"We were in Lantern Waste, you know," Toulouse said. They'd allowed themselves an hour's rest after eating.

"We were?" Nia really wasn't familiar with the land. "When?"

"We emerged from the trunk somewhere there. Mister Tumnus also lives there somewhere…"

"How did you know? We didn't pass by any lamppost when we were in there!"

"I was in pre-Winter Narnia, Nia," Toulouse said, his tone a bit bragging, "and I spent a lot of time in Lantern Waste. I know it like the back of my hand."

"You don't have a hand," Bree snorted.

"You know what I mean," Toulouse gave the Horse a withering glance.

"I'd like to know how you ended up in Nia's world," Bree said to Toulouse. "I mean, you clearly are Narnian, but why are you with her?" He nodded at Nia.

"I stumbled into their world," Toulouse said calmly. "I don't really remember what happened… It was all sort of a blur…" As if he had no one with him when he stumbled into England. But then, much as Nia trusted Bree, she didn't really want him to know who her mother was. And she really didn't want to talk about her parents – it was still a sore subject.

She remembered the magical mirror Aslan had given her the night before. It was somewhere around, buried deep in the saddlebags. She really didn't want to use it. Much as she really wanted to see Peter (and Susan and Edmund and Lucy, Nia added hurriedly), she really didn't want to hear what they'd say.

"You have to begin talking to them again sometime soon," Toulouse said, curling up beside her. "Now, if you're up to it."

"But…"

"They deserve to know you're safe, at the very least," Toulouse said. "After all, it's their land we're traveling in."

Nia fingered her old yellow sweater nervously. She'd insisted on wearing her old English clothes, though she was wearing breeches instead of her brown skirt. She couldn't really let those clothes go. It seemed as if those clothes were the only ones linking her to England, to her home – or at least it was before her parents died.

"Nia," Toulouse said, "are you afraid of something?"

"Of course not!"

"Someone, then?"

Nia felt hot. She knew she was blushing. "Of course not." It was a lie. If she hadn't known it before, she knew it now. She knew what lying felt like. She stood up and began rummaging through the saddlebags until her hand grasped a small, round object with a handle. The hand mirror. "What should I do with this?"

Toulouse gave a catty shrug. "I dunno… Didn't Aslan tell you?"

Nia shook her head. A few meters from them, Bree was grazing on the grass. She looked at her reflection on the mirror. "Oh.. er… The Mirror at Peter the High King's room at Cair Paravel, please?"

Nothing happened.

"I wish to converse with Peter the High King of Narnia."

Suddenly, her reflection rippled and became distorted, until the mirror produced another image – a familiar one. She knew right away she was looking at Peter's room through the big mirror there. And she spotted Peter immediately. He was sprawled on his bed fully clothed and with his riding boots on, sleeping. To Nia's delight, she heard him snoring. Loudly.

"He snores like a pig," Toulouse commented, looking through the Mirror. "Looks like a pig, too."

"He doesn't," Nia hissed. "Shut up, you'll wake him." Peter looked ravishing, his face positively peaceful. She longed to brush that stray lock of hair that wandered into his face. "Let's just do this later. We should be getting a move…"

"Huh," a groggy voice sounded from the Mirror. Peter had awakened and was looking blearily at the Mirror.

"Uh, hello?" Nia felt herself turn red. Why did she have to blush at wrong situations?

Peter looked as if a bucket of ice-cold water was upended over his head. "Nia!"

* * *

There she was, her face filling the big mirror in his room. After so many days she'd deigned to show herself at last. The sight of her lovely, openface was a refreshing break from his siblings (he loved them fiercely, but the endless talks of war was driving him insane) and his Councilors. He was already regretting sending Mister Tumnus and Beaver to Ettinsmoor.

Peter was the High King of Narnia, but at the sight of this uncrowned Princess, his closest female friend outside of his family, he couldn't think of anything to say. Her dark eyes bored into him, silent, waiting for him to say something.

"Oh please!" Somehow a black cat had somehow managed to worm into the mirror as the view adjusted to reveal Nia sitting under a tree in a sweater and breeches, and the cat was sitting on her lap. "Are two just going to stare all day long? We haven't got time you know…" The Cat's mouth formed a wicked grin as he added in a sly voice, "O, Majesty."

"Toulouse!" Nia sounded shocked, her beautiful eyes widening.

"Toulouse!" Peter laughed, glad the Cat had butted in. "How are you? And where the heck have you been? I've been waiting for ages…" Then, he realized what he'd said and felt himself grow hot. "We've all been waiting for ages. I – we were all so worried! You could've sent us warning! And what's this about going into Anvard to open the gates? You could've been killed!" He felt so happy, he was babbling. He didn't really mean to scold her, but the words just sort of tumbled out. He was relieved… Relieved to see her safe… alive. There was a happy balloon filling him, expanding still.

"See?" Nia turned to Toulouse. "I told you he's going to do that."

"Do what? I'm going to have to come over there to drag you by the hair back here," Peter said. "Enjoying yourself at Anvard, are you?"

Nia wasn't looking at him. Her eyes were downcast and there was a faint blush on her cheeks, making her even lovelier than before. "Oh, er…"

"We're going north," Toulouse said, cutting into their conversation again. "We're no longer in Anvard."

"You're going back to Narnia!" Susan was right! They were going back. She was returning to him – to them. "You're going back to Cair Paravel! Wait, I'll have you picked up at… Do you remember the Waterfalls, Toulouse?"

"You're not going to have us picked up anywhere, Peter," Nia said, her voice uncertain, looking at her Cat.

"Why not?" The happy balloon burst.

"Aslan sent us on a mission," Nia said. "Please don't ask it's –it's…"

"It's top secret," Toulouse continued for her. "I hope you understand. We can't tell you."

Aslan sent them on a mission to Aslan-know-where. She wasn't to go back yet. There was an inexplicably hollow feeling inside him. "Oh…"

He must've sounded really disappointed because a moment later, Nia was looking at him with those penetrating brown eyes with an apologetic expression on her face. "I'm really, really sorry Peter. We're not going back yet."

"I understand," Peter said, trying to keep the disappointment out of his voice. "Well, good luck then. I have to go. I don't exactly have time for this... I have a meeting..." He must've sounded cooler than he'd intended because the next moment, Nia looked rather offended.

"I'm really sorry, okay. Do you think we'd rather not be there? If you do, you're a bigger fool than I expected, Peter Pevensie – I mean," Nia sounded hurt and her eyes practically bored holes in his face but he tried to keep his gaze cool and relaxed, "King Peter."

Peter opened his mouth to apologize, but suddenly, the image of Nia and Toulouse was replaced by his own reflection.

"Well that was nicely handled," Peter said angrily to himself. Nia was angry with him, in top of everything else. "Peter Pevensie, you're the most idiotic, stupidest person I've ever had the misfortune to know!"

He would've continued his self-flagellation had not someone knocked at his door.

"Come in," he said wearily, straightening his tunic.

Edmund poked his head in. "Come. You've got to see this!" His expression was rather triumphant. Then, he got a look at his brother's face. "What happened to you?"

"Nothing," Peter said quickly. "I'm alright. What's going on?"

"'Jude' came forward," Edmund said as they walked down the corridor to Peter's office. "He's confessed."

* * *

"He's the most awful, most egotistic, most… ugh!"

"The most confusing boy you've ever met?" If Toulouse had eyebrows, he would've been raising one of them by now. "Honestly, it's not as if you've had much experience with boys before. I mean, there are so few you've befriended. There's Cor, and Peter and Edmund, and your Cousin Emmanuel…"

"Why?" Bree sounded interested. "What happened?"

Nia huffed and kept her mouth shut. She couldn't understand Peter. One moment, he sounded so happy to see her – he was even eager to have her back at Cair Paravel! The next, he seemed… glad. Yes, that was the word for it. He didn't actually rejoice in front of her, but his voice… why was it so cool? If he were disappointed, he wouldn't be ashamed to show his emotions to her. It had always been that way with them before.

What happened? Why had he changed? Why was he concealing his feelings form her?

Men! They're just plain hard to understand!

"Honestly, we don't have all day!" Toulouse was perched on Bree's back. "Let's go!"

**END OF CHAPTER**


	14. The Narnia Conspiracy

**CHAPTER 14: _The Narnia Conspiracy_**

"This is Cauldron Pool?" Nia asked. Her surroundings were amazing! The leaves had turned a rich reddish-gold color and there were many leaves strewn on the ground. Nia half-expected fairies to come out of their hiding places and position themselves around her and her companions. A small waterfall plunged into the pool from a low cliff up ahead and a crystal clear river (not as big as the Great River to the east, but a river, still) ran from the other end. A small rainbow arched where the waterfall met the pool. There was an ethereal quality about it that excited Nia, who'd been a believer in fairies as a child. She definitely was in fairyland.

"Like it, huh?" Toulouse mewed from the saddlebags. It had been nearly three days since they'd set out from Anvard and they'd reached Cauldron Pool faster then they'd expected. "It's hard to believe we're actually in a place called 'Lantern Waste'."

"It's absolutely gorgeous! This really is the king of place I'd like to spend the rest of my life in!"

"The Lamppost Tree wasn't bad, eh?" Bree simply couldn't help but be caught up in Nia's excitement. She shrieked in delight the moment she saw the Lamppost. The wonderful tree that gave the forest and its surrounding areas its name was a mere lamppost, nothing out of ordinary. In England, anyway.

But here, in Narnia, it was a tree. A very queer tree, to be sure, but a tree that lived and took root. Nia's Mummy Lena told her how the Empress Jadis hurled it at Aslan and missed. If anyone quizzed her on the history of Narnia before the Great Winter, she probably would've gotten a hundred percent.

It was already late in the afternoon, though the sun was still shining bright. "I think we should camp here," Bree said. "I'm rather tired after so much running, I won't mind a brief rest."

Nia nodded. She really was feeling quite tired herself after ogling at so many sights. Besides, she wanted to stay here. She knew she couldn't, she had a job to do, a duty to fulfill.

But hey, it didn't hurt to dream of living here.

* * *

"We don't have to fret much, Your Majesties," the Leopard said to Peter and Edmund as they held their War Council yet again. "With Aslan on our side, we cannot lose!"

Peter wished he could be as confident as the Leopard. He was feeling anything but. The advisers were filled with newfound confidence ever since Ahab the Ape had confessed he was spying on them for the Calormene army. The Beast spewed everything he knew about the Calormenes, and when he was finished, he burst out sobbing, prostrating himself in front of his Kings and Queens, groveling for forgiveness. When asked why he had confessed, he said, "The Lion made me see the light, Your Majesties! He made me see the light!"

Aslan had interfered. It was a relief to know the Lion was helping them, but Peter wasn't sure the spy was to be trusted. The Ape was under a guard of not less than four centaurs at all times.

What had really worried Peter (they'd been able to change war strategies within a day of Nia's telling them about the spy) was Ahab's telling the Calormenes about Nia. Now those southern barbarians were on the hunt for Narnia's missing princess.

Peter cursed himself for angering Nia. If he'd at least been honest to her, he'd still be in touch with her. He'd still know if she was fine.

Edmund shifted uncomfortably beside his elder brother. "Yes, I know Aslan's watching over us, but that doesn't mean we're off the hook! We still have to plan! We have to make advantage of the information Ahab gave us! What do you think, Peter?"

"The outcome of the battle still rests on our shoulders, Narnians," Peter fervently hoped his voice sounded like a High King's voice should. "We have to do the best we can to win. Aslan gave us a chance to have the upperhand. We must take advantage of it!"

* * *

"You know you can't keep avoiding him forever," Aravis said to Nia that night. Nia and her companions were camped on the bank of the river, and those said companions were already sleeping. The two girls were conversing through the magic Mirror Aslan gave Nia. "I mean, sure, don't tell him about the mission, but don't give make him suffer that much…"

"Who's suffering?" Nia asked.

Aravis rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Nia, whenever Cor contacts him, he asks Cor about you. Not that Cor told him anything, but we feel guilty, Nee! He obviously cares about you!"

"So what do you want me to do? Worry him some more?"

"I'm not ordering you to do anything, but I think you've got to at least talk to him. He's your friend. You can't ignore him forever, and this is a very dangerous place you're going to."

Nia knew her friend was right. But honestly, Peter deserved what she was doing to him! A friend, indeed! Serves him right for being such a…

"Look," she said, "I can't promise I'll be able to talk to him immediately, but I'll do my best. I'm really, really sorry I dragged you into this!"

"That's what friends are for," Aravis smiled warmly. "Goodnight, Nia."

"G'night." Nia watched as Aravis's image disappeared and her own reflection took its place."

"She's right, you know," Toulouse said suddenly. Nia jumped about a foot in the air. The Cat stared at her with bright eyes.

"I thought you're asleep."

"I was, but your little girl talk disturbed my catnap."

"We weren't that noisy," Nia said, blushing. She and Aravis had giggled uncontrollably over Cor's latest conundrums earlier. "Oh, alright! I'm really sorry." She looked at the dark mass that was Bree. "Thank goodness I didn't wake Bree."

"That Horse," Toulouse whispered a bit disdainfully, "sleeps like the dead. Honestly, this proves that Cats are far superior…"

"I can't talk to him right now, Tou," Nia said, leaning on the nearest tree. "I can't…"

"I'm not really saying you should talk to _him. _But I think you should talk to one of _them._"

"What do you mean?"

"The monarchs of Narnia have the right to know someone's going to do something for them, you know."

Nia knew very well Toulouse had a point. She had to let someone know, but she didn't want to worry Peter. That was the reason why she couldn't tell him. She knew he'd create such a fuss over it…

"Susan," she whispered. "I'll talk to Susan." She hadn't had the chance to talk to Susan privately since entering Narnia (since they were ten, in fact!), but now would be a good chance to start reestablishing their friendship. Not that it wasn't already reestablished, but the closeness they used to have wasn't there yet.

"Girl Talk again?" If Toulouse were human, he would probably be cringing. "Oh, please spare me!" With that, he turned tail and sauntered into the woods.

"Come back in half an hour, Tou," Nia whispered urgently after him. Then, she looked askance at her Mirror. What if Peter was in Susan's room? She didn't think she could stand the sight of him yet. But Toulouse was right. She took a deep breath and said, "I wish to converse with Susan the Gentle, Queen of Narnia."

And then, her reflection dissolved and made way for an image of a room inside a castle…

* * *

"You want to go to the White Waste?" The river deity speaking to them looked doubtful. "Why would Great Beasts and a pretty Daughter of Eve go to the accursed place?"

"It's not accursed," Nia said irritably. She had little sleep the night before, gabbing with Susan. "It's…"

"We are Their Majesties' emissaries," Bree said quickly. "We must get there immediately. Will you help us?"

"If Their Majesties sent you to the White Waste, they would simply have you escorted to the marshes and you would have journeyed north from there. It is the fastest way."

"King Edmund asked us to survey his domain," Nia said, trying her best to sound formal. She knew Edmund was supposed to be the Duke of Lantern Waste. Western Narnia was his domain.

That was the story they'd agreed upon. That King Edmund sent them to Lantern Waste and Peter sent them to Ettinsmoor. Even if they told these people Aslan sent them, they might frog march them to Cair Paravel and insist they meet with the Kings and Queens first. Even Bree knew Nia had a rift with Peter.

One of the other river deities approached their speaker (who also appeared to be their leader) and whispered something to his watery ear.

"What are they doing?" Nia whispered to Toulouse. "We haven't time for this!"

"They're deliberating," Toulouse whispered. "We're lucky if they don't decide to send us back. Apparently, the Pevensies are not allowing anyone without their authority into Ettinsmoor. Keep your cool, will you? I hope they don't require letters…"

"Well then," the speaker looked at them appraisingly. "We shall take you there."

It was lucky they didn't know that the Pevensies had already sent people there. Susan told her so last night. Nia hoped Mister Tumnus and the Beaver were still in one piece.

"May the Lion bless you," Toulouse said to them.

The river spirits nodded and their leader raised his hands at the river. A boat rose from the waters, large enough for a Horse, a girl, and a Cat, together with their supplies, to sail comfortably. It wasn't as grand as the ship that took Nia and Toulouse to Cair Paravel, but it would do.

"We will swim by the boat until the White Lake and stir the boat as fast as we can," the leader said. The White Lake was what Narnians now call the place where the White Witch's castle stood. The said castle was now all melted and had created a small lake. "But we must send a message to Their Majesties immediately."

"We really have to hurry," Nia said, trying to quell her annoyance.

"Go aboard, then," said a naiad, who was little more than a tall outline of a woman made entirely of water. "And may the Lion watch over you and all of Narnia."

"Thank you," the three companions said, and climbed aboard.

* * *

Queen Susan the Gentle looked at her younger brother in the eye. "This does not go out between us, do you understand?"

Edmund nodded, swallowing a large lump in his throat. When Susan had that steely glint in her eye, he knew he had to do her bidding, or else…

Well, it wasn't as if she'd kill him, but she'd make his live a living hell for months to come.

"And if Lucy or Peter even hears…" Her pale blue eyes finished the warning.

"They won't" Edmund grumbled. He could grumble as much as he wanted, but he would do what Susan wanted, anyway. Susan had a special talent for bullying Edmund. She couldn't bully Peter – Peter was the one who bullied her. She couldn't scare Lucy either. Lucy fell under Peter's jurisdiction and wouldn't hesitate to run screaming to him. But Edmund would rather die than tell Peter anyone, let alone Susan, was bullying him. Susan knew that, and though she seldom used her power over him, she used it to the best advantage. "Why doesn't Nia want to talk…"

Susan glared at him. They were in his room. She trapped him the moment he was stepping out of the washroom. Life was so unfair! "You mean, _Kitty._"

"Fine. Why does Kitty avoid… _Tiger_, anyway?" Susan insisted they use pseudonyms. Even in the safety of his room.

"You know how much of a prig our brother is, Ed," Susan sighed, flopping on a large armchair. Edmund's favorite chair. "Nia didn't want to tell him where she was going, and then he made it seem as if the Council was more important…"

"Well, this nation is more important than her…"

"Well, she was offended. Anyone would be."

"Where is she – and those Beasts – going, anyway? Why is it such a secret?"

"Well, she obviously didn't want to pressure Tiger. Edmund," worried lines formed across Susan's lovely forehead, "she's going to Ettinsmoor."

"She's – WHAT?" Edmund didn't mean to shout. Susan cast a worried glance at the locked doors before glaring at him. "You mean she's – she's actually going to Ettinsmoor? The Ettinsmoor?" he spluttered.

"How many Ettinsmoors do you know?"

"Is she crazy?"

"No, she isn't. Aslan sent her there."

"Why would Aslan send her there?" Edmund wondered aloud. "It's too dangerous for her!"

"Maybe the wolves can't really hurt her because she reminds them of Queen Swanwhite," Susan mused. "But what none of those rebels were born before the Great Winter?"

"They'll think she's a spy for us! We have to tell Peter!" Edmund made for the door. Quick as lightning, his sister stood in front of him, blocking the only way out.

"We can't tell Peter, Ed," for the first time in what seemed like ages, Susan wore an imploring look on her face.

"Why not?"

"Peter wants to be sure she's safe," Susan said. "He'd interfere with the mission if he ever finds out where she's going."

"Surely not," Edmund snorted. "I mean, it was Aslan who sent her after all…"

"But still, he would be distracted. We wouldn't want him distracted now, wouldn't we?"

"As if he isn't already," Edmund said sullenly. "Honestly, how long do you think we can keep this from him? A day? A week? Until we find out Nia's dead? Which, will probably take a long time for us to hear off, I may add."

"And I'm supposed to be the pessimistic one," Susan sighed. "Edmund, if you tell them, I'll – I'll tell Peter about the time you spilled water on his art project!"

Edmund winced. Peter would kill him if he found out who ruined his precious collage a year ago.

"And I'll tell him about the time you took Lucy's doll and left it for the dog to chew on…"

How unfortunate it was that Susan had to witness both incidents! "Alright! We'll keep this a secret! Mum's the word! But don't blame me if Peter finds out we're in this and decides to have us both beheaded!"

"Peter won't do that," Susan said confidently. "He's our brother!"

"Yes, and Nia's only the love of his life."

"Aslan sent her to Ettinsmoor, Ed," Susan said a bit wearily. "I would've stopped her if I could, but she's going there under Aslan's orders. I don't think any of us could supersede him."

"Where is she now?"

"She's probably sailing to the White Lake right now. She was in Lantern Waste when I talked to her last night."

"One last question," Edmund said. "Why _me_?"

"Because I don't really want to bear the secret alone. I asked Nia if I could tell you, and she said 'You're Queen, Su. You can tell anyone you want. But please, don't let Peter know.' I can't tell Lucy. You know very well she'll tell Peter. And I know you've been dying to know where she is."

"Thanks for being so thoughtful," Edmund said sarcastically.

Susan smiled her sweetest smile at him. "You're welcome."

* * *

"How long before King Peter gets wind of this?" Toulouse was curled up lazily on the deck of the boat. He looked at Bree. "Wanna bet?"

"I don't have anything to exchange," Bree whined.

Toulouse shook his head and looked at Nia, who was eating biscuits. It was past lunch, and they were making good progress.

"We're quite near now, aren't we?" Nia asked Bree.

"Yes," Bree frowned on the maps. "The White Lake should be right in the middle, between those two hills."

Nia squinted at where Bree was looking. Sure enough, she was sure she could make out two hills in the distance. "How long before we reach that?"

"Another hour or so. We'll strike camp on the south side. My gran says it gets biting cold in Ettinsmoor."

Nia looked over the railings and into the water. She could make out outlines of men and women swimming alongside the boat, speeding their journey. "How long," she whispered just in case they could hear what they were talking about, "before those naiads reach Cair Paravel?"

"I dunno. These water spirits swim very fast, Nia. I've heard they could out-swim the merpeople. I think we're slowing them down.""

Nia had no idea how fast the merpeople swam, but she knew the river spirits were already swimming very fast. But the speed they were going was a lot slower than their usual speed… But she was confident she and her friends would reach the White Lake first. After all, the messengers parted with them only a few minutes ago to take the fork in the river leading to the Great River.

"They'll probably make it to Cair Paravel before the sun sets," Toulouse said, basking in the warm autumn sun. "We'll be in Ettinsmoor by then, if Bree doesn't insist on camping where this people leave us."

"We don't want to be caught in a sudden blizzard, Toulouse," Bree said rather sternly. "It's been known to happen."

"We want to reach the rebels immediately."

"What do you think?" Bree asked Nia.

"Oh, er," Nia took a deep breath. She knew both Beasts made good points and she didn't know how to compromise. "The White Lake isn't in Ettinsmoor, right? Well, then, why don't we camp at the northern side? That way, we're closer to Ettinsmoor but we won't suffer the blizzards. Extreme cold, maybe, but not snowstorms."

Both Bree and Toulouse looked intently at her.

"You ought to rule a country someday," Bree said, and Toulouse looked meaningfully at her, reminding her of who her maternal relatives were: the ancient Kings and Queens of Narnia, not to mention Cor.

As if she needed reminding.

"Oh honestly, Bree," Nia laughed, shaking her head. She began rummaging through the saddlebags and looking for the coat she packed that morning. "Toulouse, have you actually been to Ettinsmoor?"

"No," the Cat admitted. "My stay here in Narnia has been relatively short, but I heard King Thorn go on about it once. Said it was so cold, it'll freeze your blood. Bree's right. We can't camp at Ettismoor. We'll have to journey as fast as we can to the rebel base and pray we make it before nightfall."

"Where did Susan say the rebels are?" Bree asked.

"Their base is located at a city called Harfang. I dunno if I got that right…"

"Harfang," Toulouse's voice sounded shaky. "Harfang's the home of the intelligent but brutal giants. Nia, they – they…"

"Spit it out," Bree said nervously. "What is it?"

"They're man-eaters! Cannibals!"

Bree and Nia exchanged wide-eyed looks. Cannibals! They were going into a den of cannibals!

Nia sincerely doubted she'd be getting out Ettinsmoor in one piece, let alone alive.

* * *

"Your Majesties," Oreius bowed to the Pevensies. "A messenger has come from the Lantern Waste – a naiad."

Edmund glanced at his elder sister, who looked nervous. The four of them were in Peter's office, having tea.

"Tell her to come in," Peter said, his voice commanding.

The naiad entered, a watery apparition. "Your Majesties," she said, curtsying. "I was sent here to tell you that the emissaries you sent to the White Waste is already well on their way. Also, they have already surveyed the Lantern Waste for you, King Edmund…"

"I never…" Peter's glare cut off Edmund's protests.

"I'm glad our _three _representatives are already on their way," Peter said to the naiad, his face devoid of expression.

"Just so you know, o' High King," the naiad said, "the representatives your brother sent were a Horse, a Cat, and a Daughter of Eve. If I am not mistaken, they are headed to Harfang."

"Of course they are," Susan said, her voice calm. "We sent them there."

"Yes, my Queen."

"You may go now," Peter said, his face considerably pale. "Thank you for your time."

"What's wrong, Peter?" Lucy asked after the naiad and Oreius left the room.

"The rebels will eat her alive," Peter said, sounding really horrified.

"You mean they're cannibals or something?" Susan looked frightened.

"They haven't got papers with my signature," Peter said. He sounded quite lost, really. "The only thing keeping Mister Tumnus and Beaver alive is our agreement with those rebels."

"They'll make it," Edmund felt his insides turn to jelly. "At least they aren't cannibals."

"For all we know," Peter paused to swallow a lump in his throat, "they could be." Then, he put his head in his arms. If Peter did this in England or in peacetime Narnia, Edmund would've thought this pathetic, but this was Nia. And she and her companions had just walked into grave danger.

Edmund looked meaningfully at Susan, who looked really, really pale. Susan told Nia about Harfang. None of the four monarchs really knew, much about the place. Most of the old records concerning Harfang were lost during the Great War before the Great Winter. Maybe Toulouse knew more than any of them…

He would corner Susan after this. Never mind if she bullied him (not that she was in the mood – she looked positively sick). If they had to make an all-night vigil, they would do that. They had to talk Nia out of it.

Or at least show her Peter's signature.

**END OF CHAPTER**

**

* * *

**

_**AN: **Sorry for the delay. Stupid server and stupid phone company! Thanks for the reviews!_


	15. From the Frying Pan and into the Fire

**CHAPTER 15: _From the Frying Pan and into the Fire_**

"Are you sure you want Nia to forge Peter's signature?" Susan asked Edmund as he fished out a copy of one of Peter's missives – the one he always sent with his representatives to Harfang. Then, Susan shook her head, as if arguing with herself. "No, this is for the best…" 

"If only we can reach through the mirror and actually give this to her," Edmund said, shaking his head. "But we can't. We can only hope she'll be able to produce a reasonable facsimile."

Susan sat down on her armchair in front of the mirror, with Edmund sitting on the arm. They were both worried not only for Nia but also for Peter. Their elder brother had been inconsolable, shaking with worry. Susan would have to sit down with the Council in his place tomorrow.

"I didn't know Peter sent letters with our emissaries," Susan said, fingering her green gown with worry.

"Next time," Edmund said, "I'll force Peter to send letters with _our _signatures instead of just _his._"

"Do you think Nia knows more about Harfang than we do?"

"I'm not sure about Nia," Edmund replied. "But I'm quite sure Toulouse knows more about that city than all of us combined. You know, Su, if ever Nia comes out of this, I'm going to ask Aslan to make her a Queen, or at least crown her as Princess. And then, I'll have Peter dub Toulouse and Bree as knights of the Order of the Table. They deserve that."

"If they come back," Susan said a bit sadly. Then, she said more cheerfully, "I think Nia should be called 'Narnia the Bold'. It suits her. But then, you know, Queen Narnia of Narnia is kind of redundant."

"We'll just have to use her nickname," Edmund said, nodding. "Or maybe we'll just crown her Princess, then wait for Peter to come around and propose. I wouldn't mind Nia as my sister-in-law."

"Yes," Susan agreed. "Peter the Magnificent and Narnia, his Queen. It sounds… Look!"

The mirror's reflection suddenly faded, and in its place appeared Nia, her face worried. There was a bit of snow in the background, and what seemed to be a lake. So they weren't in Ettinsmoor yet. Good.

"Do you have some sort of treaty or message or any letter that will help us get to Harfang and out of it in one piece?" She didn't seem to mind Edmund being there. "Toulouse told me a few hours ago that these giants… Su, Ed, these giants are cannibals!"

Susan and Edmund looked at each other, unsure. Cannibals. The Harfang giants were cannibals. They'd expected that, to be sure, but Nia confirmed it. And here she was, still plowing on, possibly to her death.

"You have to go back," Susan said to her. "I'll talk to Aslan and tell him we made you turn around. You can't go there! You'll get killed!"

"No," Nia said, her voice shaking but determined. "Aslan sent me. I can't turn around."

"Look, Mister Tumnus and Mister Beaver are taking care of things," Edmund said. "You can go back."

"Aslan knows we sent someone to Ettinsmoor, Ed," Susan was looking at him. "He knows."

"Then why would he send Nia and Toulouse and Bree?" Then, realization hit him. Aslan wouldn't send Nia to Harfang if he was certain Mister Tumnus and Mister Beaver would be able to negotiate with the rebels. "He thinks they can…" Aslan believed in these three individuals. If Aslan believed in anything, it meant everything was going to be fine. But still, it was risky. It was very dangerous.

"The letter, Ed," Susan said, grabbing the letter from his hand and showing it to Nia. "Do you think you can forge this?"

Peter's handwriting was quite easy to forge, and so was his signature. Nia nodded. She looked like she wanted to throw up, but she wouldn't. Not with that determined look in her eyes. "I can do this."

Susan and Edmund knew Nia wasn't talking about forging Peter's letter.

* * *

"Is it close enough?" Nia asked the two Pevensies, shoving the piece of parchment in front of the Mirror. She'd spent the last half an hour sweating over Peter's letter. She may have an eye for detail and a memory to match, but she couldn't copy anything exactly as it was to save her life!

Susan nodded. "Looks close enough. I don't think the wolves will mind…"

"Close," Edmund said, eyeing it critically. "But not close enough. Do it over."

"I'm running out of parchment," Nia muttered. She knew she was whining, but she didn't care. Her frustrations and fears were quickly catching up with her. Oh, well, at least she'd join her Mum and Dad soon enough. She sincerely wished the giants, wolves, marsh boggles, and whatever else the rebels were, would be quick about it – butchering her.

"There's little room for error, Nia," Edmund told her sternly. "We mean to see that you live."

"It's not too late to meet you there," Susan said. "We can set out now…"

"Peter needs you there," Nia said, then hesitated. "How is he?"

"Oh, he's worried sick," Edmund replied. "A naiad just came…"

"Two hours ago," Susan interjected.

"And told us about three emissaries to Ettinsmoor. You're busted, Nia, but even Peter knows it's already too late to stop you. He's really frustrated about it. He…" Susan looked warningly at him, and he cleared his throat. "Just make sure you get back here in one piece. That's a command, Nia, not a request." Edmund drew himself up, and Nia had to admit he really looked like a king.

Nia nodded, blinking back her tears. No use crying now. It would only make things worse…

It was lucky Bree had insisted she pack an inkpot and a quill as well as bits of parchment. She flattened another piece on the stone slab she was writing on (there were loads of them this side of the White Lake) and began to study Peter's handwriting yet again. Seeing Peter's letter brought out a lot of confused feelings within her. She wanted to tear the letter apart. No, she wanted to keep it.

But most of all, she wanted to see him.

Quelling the strange desire to see the High King of Narnia, Nia took a shuddering breath and began to write.

* * *

"Look at it this way," Bree said as they prepared to enter Ettinsmoor the following morning, "they'll probably think we're heroes. We'll be honored – nay, immortalized – in the annals Narnian history. We'll be loved, cherished, and we'll probably serve as inspiration to patriotic countrymen, willing to do anything for their country…"

"Call me whatever you want," Toulouse grumbled, burrowing deeper into the saddlebags, seeking warmth, "but I'm not feeling patriotic right now. This is suicide!"

It was a cool Narnian morning. Or at least, it was cool for the rest of Narnia, but it was cold this side of the White Lake. It was practically freezing. Nia felt the chill blowing from Ettinsmoor even though she was wearing a woolen coat over her English clothes, not to mention woolen gloves. Bree said it wouldn't be snowing yet in Ettinsmoor, but it would be very cold, a snow-less winter. Needless to say, the cold autumn breeze (which felt a lot like the onset of winter) did nothing to improve their dispositions.

"We have the letter, remember," Nia said, more to herself than to the others. "We'll be fine."

"Yes, we're lucky you're such a good forger," Toulouse said sarcastically. "What if the wolves find some overriding flaw, or something? What if the signature's not the same as they remember?"

"Edmund and Susan both say it's a good copy," Nia said. "And I couldn't even tell the difference between the copy and the original! We'll be just fine."

"With luck," Bree said as they set out, Nia and Bree walking side by side, "we'll reach Harfang not long after nightfall, if not before."

Luck? Nia's thoughts weren't exactly optimistic as they passed the hills that separated the Northern Waste from Ettinsmoor. It wasn't luck. If they were lucky, they would be in Cair Paravel right now, or in Anvard, as far away from Ettinsmoor as possible without crossing the desert.

Thankfully, Toulouse remained in glum silence as they proceeded into the north.

The Northern Waste, Ettinsmoor, was a wasteland, all right. It was certified tundra. Only hardy weeds and plants were to be seen. There were very few birds to be seen in the area. Ettinsmoor was a strange and lonely land. To Nia, Ettinsmoor was worlds apart from Narnia and Anvard. She couldn't help but compare the mystical Narnia and its and strange, magical people, and quaint Archenland and its more ordinary, though lovely, citizens, with the veritable wasteland that was Ettinsmoor.

During her stay in America (and later in, in her family's estate in Kent), she had followed the War with a tenacity that would've impressed the Fuhrer himself. She would read everything about Allies and the Axis powers, and Churchill and Roosevelt and Stalin. Among the three leaders of the Allies, the Russian leader was the most intriguing the Nia. Russia itself was even more intriguing. Information about the largest country in the world was hard to come by, what with a continent full of Nazis between them, but Nia had heard about all those tales of criminals serving their term in one of those prisons in the far north, in Siberia. She heard that Siberia was a lonely place, full of despair. There was almost no wildlife there. She'd never been to Siberia, but if it was anything like Ettinsmoor, then the prisoners' stay there would be punishment enough for whatever they did.

The weak sunlight that actually managed to penetrate the clouds hovering above the land could barely give off warmth.

Oh, well, thought Nia, at least there are no blizzards and strong winds yet.

But the cold was enough to almost make them wish to reach Harfang immediately. Almost.

About two hours before lunch, by unspoken agreement, Nia mounted Bree and the Horse galloped the next several leagues. They new time was running short, but they didn't want to get eaten right away.

"We should stop here," Bree said two hours later, breathing heavily, "and rest for a while."

Nia nodded dumbly and began bringing out the fruits they'd picked back in Lantern Waste. It was lucky they decided to heed Toulouse's advice that they get as many fruits as they can, since the weather in Ettinsmoor would preserve those fruits, anyway, and they needed as much sustenance as they could get once they were there.

"Why do fish rot more easily than fruits?" asked Toulouse, scrambling out of his pack and sniffing the food. "Life is so unfair!"

Nia and Bree didn't answer. Toulouse was right, anyhow. Life was so unfair.

* * *

"Are you alright Susan?" asked Lucy as the four Pevensies ate their lunch.

"I'm fine," Susan said with a smile that was rather forced. "I'm just tired. Who knew sitting on the Council was so exhausting!"

"I'm sorry," Peter said to Susan. "I will take over after lunch if you're not feeling up to it."

"You," Susan said with a steely gaze at her brother, "are not feeling up to it. Therefore, I will resume my Council duty this afternoon. After all, we still have to discuss how to mount defenses around the castle. Besides, it's high time I get involved in these things. After all, I'm Queen."

"I'm Queen too," Lucy said, pouting.

"Yes," Susan said, rolling her eyes, "but you're not yet old enough to understand the things they're saying. In fact," she grinned at Edmund, "even I don't understand what they're saying half the time."

"That's because you're not meant for battle, Gentle Queen," Edmund said teasingly.

"Well, at least I can draw a bow and fire an arrow," Susan retorted. "Unlike some people I know."

"At least I don't scream every time someone brandishes a sword in front of me…"

The rest of the conversation soon faded out of Peter's consciousness. He wasn't feeling well, all right. He was sick with worry. He didn't get much sleep last night, thinking of what the rebel Narnians would do to Nia if she didn't show them the letter. When he wasn't thinking of the worst-case scenarios, he was busy mentally kicking himself for shoving Nia away. He knew he had to concentrate on the war. He would concentrate on the war tomorrow. But he wasn't feeling well today.

He had to contact her. He had to. Or he'd go crazy.

* * *

"Is that it?" Nia asked Bree and Toulouse as the three companions peered over the top of a cliff and at the city half a league away from where they were. They were crouched low, to prevent the sentries from seeing them, but they had the feeling that Harfang's sentries were not just stationed on the walls. Their unease over Harfang's guards started ever since they saw a vulture pass overhead, about five leagues from the city. Vultures were for warmer climates. And Toulouse said that if his memory served him right (which meant he remembered it clearly as if it were yesterday), vultures served as scouts for the White Witch's army. It wasn't exactly the most comforting piece of information.

"I don't know," Toulouse said, looking at the imposing city-fortress. The dark gray mass before them made a stark contrast with the light gray of its surroundings. "But it probably is. After all, it's the only city around. And it's nearly dark…"

The three of them looked apprehensively at each other. None of them wanted to enter Harfang yet.

"Do you think we still have time to negotiate if we sleep here now and enter the city tomorrow?" asked Bree.

"I don't think we can light a fire here even if we wanted," Nia said, "which we do. We enter the city or we freeze to death."

"Given the alternatives," Toulouse said, "I think I'd rather freeze than be wolf chow."

Bree shrugged. Nia bit her lip hard. She groped for her Mirror in the bag and whispered, "I wish to converse with Queen Susan the Gentle."

Susan and Edmund were sitting on Susan's armchair, concern etched on their faces.

"You're already there." Edmund said. It was a statement, not a question.

"We haven't entered yet," Nia said. "We're still debating about it."

"What's there to debate about?" Susan asked. "Aslan sent you there. I'm quite sure he'll protect you from those man-eating…"

"As if we need reminding," Nia said dryly. "I just thought you ought to know. I mean, if we don't survive, you'll know why we died and where we died."

"Not to mention how we died," Toulouse interjected.

"What are you talking about? You are not going to die, do you hear me?" Susan's face was paper white and she gripped the edges of her seat. "Aslan will protect you. You will go back to Cair Paravel after you're done there"

"And we still have plans for you and…" Edmund stopped suddenly.

"Please tell Peter," Nia took a deep breath, "that I forgive him and that I'm sorry I was so mean."

"Why don't you talk to him yourself?" asked Edmund. "Hang on, I'll…"

"No," Nia said quickly. Then, to her annoyance and embarrassment, tears began to fill her eyes and slide down her cheeks. She hurriedly brushed them away. "I will be fine. I'll talk to him later, but…"

"But what?"

"If I don't show up tomorrow night, it means something has happened to me." She didn't want to spell out what that was. "Wait until the battle's over and then tell Peter everything."

"Now don't talk like that," Susan was teary-eyed too.

"It's been nice knowing you," Nia said. "_Au revoir_ Su, Ed. And say goodbye to Lucy, too, for me." Closing her eyes, she broke off the connection.

"So we're going right now?" Toulouse asked.

Nia nodded tightly and picked up a saddlebag. "If we don't do it now, our courage might fail us tomorrow. Besides," she gave a laugh that wasn't really quite a laugh, "if we're going to die, why delay? I hate delays!"

"Your smile," Bree noted, "is actually more of a grimace."

"Never you mind."

"Okay, let's move people," Toulouse said, and they walked towards the path they'd spotted earlier, one that led to the city below.

And then, suddenly, a wolf appeared, walking up the path and towards them, followed by another, and another, until a ring was formed around them. Nia couldn't move. She was paralyzed with fear. And, judging from her companions' faces, they were scared to death, too.

"They're lost," one wolf said to the other one to his right.

"No," the other wolf replied. "Travelers. They have saddlebags."

"W-what will happen to us?" Nia stammered. She couldn't control herself. She wasn't sure whether the question was directed to the wolves, or to fate. None of her friends volunteered to tell the story they'd cooked up in Lantern Waste. Why did that seem eras ago?

"Let's put it this way, my pretty," another wolf said, "if we had our way, we'd be feasting on you right now. As it is, Fenrir ordered us to bring any living creature other than we citizens to him. Now, go. And don't try to escape; we will catch you anyway. Fenrir is most displeased with those who attempt to escape."

The three companions nodded dumbly. Nia didn't think she'd be able to walk a meter away from the wolves, anyway. Her legs felt like lead.

"Move!" growled the largest of the pack, presumably their leader. "Fenrir is most displeased with those who tarry."

Fenrir, said Nia to herself, trying to distract herself from imminent death. Who was he? And why were the wolves so scared of him?

Oh, well, at least they would have another few hours to live. It was, to Nia's opinion, something to be thankful for.

**END OF CHAPTER**


	16. Harfang

**CHAPTER 16: _Harfang_**

Harfang, a city within a single, albeit gigantic, castle. It was relatively warmer there inside, but Nia couldn't help shivering as her, Toulouse and Bree's entourage made their way trough great stone corridors. The place swarmed with all kinds of creatures.

Well, maybe not all creatures, but very interesting ones, if not more than a bit frightening. The marsh boggles certainly looked menacing, even though Nia (who was only average in height) stood taller than they did. It was practically impossible to detect the males from the females. And then, there were the ankleslicers. They were extremely miniscule, about the height of her ankle, and were very dangerous in a battle, especially since you couldn't really notice them when you were busy trying to skewer enemies who are more your height. And then, there were the vultures. They eyed Nia and her friends as they passed underneath one of the windows. Nia felt the vultures' gaze stripping her naked, determined to find out what her secrets were. It wasn't exactly the best feeling in the world, but it was nothing compared to the sick feeling of doom settling in her stomach.

And then, there were the giants; the carnivorous civilized giants of Harfang. To say that they were huge was an understatement. They were HUGE – all capital letters. They looked at Nia and her companions as if they were deciding whether to eat them cooked or raw.

Hopefully, she would be dead by then. She didn't want to see her body parts getting amputated one by one in such a disgusting way.

"Where are we going?" Bree asked the lead wolf. The rest of the denizens of Harfang parted before their little procession.

"Be silent!" the wolf he had spoken to growled. Then, he stopped dead in front of a gigantic door – everything in Harfang was made for giants – and howled. The rest of the pack, even Nia and her friends, stopped.

A giantess opened the door. Nia supposed that that giantess was the housekeeper, though she was too small and too near to see anything but the folds of the giantess's skirts at eye level, and the tip of the giant nose up and an ample amount of bosom when she looked up. "Are these the guests, Lupus?" she asked, her voice a rumbling sound resembling thunder. Something about the way she said "guests" had an ominous feeling in it. Nia felt her heart sink lower than her stomach.

"They are," Lupus replied. "You must ready them for meeting Fenrir, Odessa. You know he likes them neat and fresh."

Neat and fresh? Nia's blood ran cold.

"I have dresses fit for queens," Odessa said, looking down on them. Odessa looked more like a nurse than a housekeeper. Wisps of graying hair framed a rather plump, matronly face. Odessa of Harfang's face was kind, even. But the fact that she was a Harfang giant, and therefore a cannibal, sent shivers down Nia's spine. "Come in, girl and Cat."

"What about Bree?" Nia asked, scared on the Horse's behalf.

"Don't worry," Bree said, obviously feigning cheerfulness as the wolves led him away, "we'll see each other again!"

"Don't tarry, will you?" Odessa opened the door wide to reveal a giant dressing room full of clothes of every kind of fabric and color. And a humongous basin in one corner – a bathtub.

Nia and Toulouse remained rooted on the spot.

"Oh, well come on! I won't eat you."

If the situation had been different, Nia would've snorted at this. She picked Toulouse up and reluctantly entered the room.

"We're going to get you two all nice and cleaned up," Odessa continued. "Now, here you are little girl, we have a nice bath prepared for you…"

* * *

Half an hour later, Nia was scrubbed and soaped within an inch of her life. Not to mention shampooed with that plant thing, carvala – Odessa had despaired of her hair – so now, her brown hair hung in shiny ringlets past her shoulders and would likely stay that way until the day she died. The marsh boggle that hadscrubbed her must've hated humans! She was still sore from that bath! She was dressed in a beautiful lavender dress and matching satin slippers. The giantess said Fenrir liked his guests clean and refreshed. It was almost as if she expected Toulouse and Nia to be at home in Harfang.

Toulouse was whimpering from his place on the floor. The female dwarves who bathed him hadn't exactly been merciful to him, but he looked great. At first, Nia thought he was moaning at the utter humiliation of having to take a bath, but she found out what was wrong soon enough.

"Wait for Lupus here," Odessa had said before she left with her army of marsh boggles and dwarves. "He will escort you to Fenrir. And please don't try to escape. I think you're nice and I don't want you to get yourselves killed immediately."

So Nia was left alone with the miserable Toulouse inside that giant room full of giant furniture.

"What's wrong?" she asked, cradling the cat in her arms.

"It's Fenrir," Toulouse said, his voice quaking. "Do you ever wonder why you've never heard of him before?"

"Not exactly," Nia said. "I mean, he is after King Thorn's time, right?" She had never been able to think of King Gale and Queen Swanwhite as her grandparents.

Toulouse shook his head fervently. "No. No!"

"Well, what's wrong with Fenrir? I mean, aside from the fact that he appears to be the leader of these rebels and the Pevensies haven't told me anything about him."

"Fenrir is a traitor, Nia! He betrayed your grandparents to the White Witch!"

Nia looked at him in shock. "He – what?"

"I had no idea he was still around! That was more than a hundred years ago!"

"Okay," Nia took a deep breath, "let's get this straight. He betrayed the King and Queen…"

"_Your _grandparents," interjected Toulouse.

"He betrayed _my _grandparents. Why? How?"

"Don't expect my to answer all your questions – I was just a kitten then, remember? Most of what I know, I heard from Lena's Nurse, a she-beaver."

Nia waited expectantly. They had time to kill, after all. Besides, it distracted her from the thought of giants eating her. "Go on."

"Fenrir Lightningpaw was one of the best warriors King Thorn ever had, if not the best, and a high-ranking member of the Order of the Wolf," Toulouse explained. Nia knew that the Order of the Wolf was the organization established by King Markus I four hundred years before the Great Winter. "He was just a young wolf then, but his skill in military tactics and actual combat enabled him to rise very quickly within the order.

"And then, he and some of his fellow wolf-knights went to Ettinsmoor on a campaign. And when he returned… well, let's just say he wasn't the King's knight anymore. The White Witch was secretly forming her army there, and she recruited Fenrir and the other knights. They returned to ransack the castle and kill everyone in it. They succeeded. The Great Winter began."

"It's terrible," Nia said, her hand over her mouth. She felt terrible. "Why would he do that?"

"I heard from the She-beaver," here Toulouse dropped his voice to a whisper, "that he'd fallen in love with Queen Swanwhite and he couldn't stand seeing her with another man. He rarely was in the castle, anyway. And that during the Ettinsmoor campaign, the White Witch must've promised him something he believed would help him win the Queen. And maybe it was too late when he realized she, too, was killed during the attack."

"Like Lancelot falling in love with Guinevere," Nia mused. "Only here, the Queen really loved her King, and the Knight was left with only his burning desire. But honestly, she's human and he's a wolf. Didn't he see that it was hopeless from the start?"

Toulouse shrugged. "With you looking like a Queen, Nia, you're in grave danger."

"As if we're not grave danger already as it is," Nia bit her lip. She knew she resembled Swanwhite, though not as much as Helaena resembled the Queen. "Besides, I'm only fourteen. He's not going to fall in love with me. He's going to have us cooked for tomorrow's breakfast. Besides," she made a face, though she didn't feel very much like joking or making any funny expressions, "it's disgusting! He's ancient!"

"This isn't the time to make extremely pathetic attempts at joking, Narnia Evenshire."

"Well, I don't want to spend the lat few minutes of my life sulking…"

There was a rapping sound coming from the door. Someone was knocking. Toulouse and Nia looked at each other, wide-eyed.

"It is time," growled a voice that sounded a lot like Lupus's.

* * *

Dinner at Cair Paravel wasn't usually this tense.

Lucy peered surreptitiously over the large turkey in front of her and at her siblings. They all looked pale. Peter stared ahead. Susan glared at her plate. Edmund fidgeted in his seat. "Are you alright?"

The sound of her voice startled her siblings out of their reveries.

"Oh, uh," Peter said mumbled, as if seeing the entire room for the first time. He shook his head fiercely as if ridding himself of some thought. "Yes… What is it, Lu?"

"Uh… Nothing."

"Lucy," Susan said, shaking her head, "now's not the time to play, you know…"

Edmund fidgeting.

Obviously, her siblings didn't hear her question. "Well, you all look sort of… off the weather."

"Off the weather!" Susan's laugh was so obviously faked, Lucy thought it would be merciful to tell her to stop. "The only one who's off the weather here is Peter. And may I remind you Peter that in four days from now, the battle is to begin. I trust you'll return to your post tomorrow?"

"Of course," Peter said. "I'm alright, really. Has Cor or Aravis showed up? I want to ask them if they've heard from Nia…"

Lucy saw Edmund and Susan exchange brief looks of what could only be referred to as dismay.

"No," Edmund said, stuffing food in his mouth like the barbaric lout he was. "I mean, they didn't show up and Nia didn't talk to them."

"How could you tell?" Peter asked. Then, he took a deep breath. "I'm dwelling in this too much. I should concentrate on the war."

"You should," Susan nodded. "The Calormene embassy to Ettinsmoor has been intercepted and brought to the holding area for questioning."

"I will do that tomorrow. But what did Ahab say about the weapons the Calormenes will use? And military tactics we ought to prepare for?"

Lucy didn't understand what they were talking about.

* * *

"You look beautiful, Nia," Bree said as Nia and Toulouse came out of their room. Bree had his mane braided and tied with a blue ribbon and he smelled vaguely of lemons.

"You look great, too," Nia said, attempting to smile. They were surrounded by wolves and by marsh boggles. "Where are we going, anyway?"

"I'm not sure," Bree replied, "but it seems as if every denizen of Harfang is going down to this gathering also."

"Every citizen goes to the Great Hall to welcome the guests," a marsh boggle said, leering unpleasantly at them.

"Oh," Bree said, nodding his head. "Are there other guests as well?"

"Yes," said the marsh boggle, "but they have already been welcomed."

Nia swallowed the lump in her throat. Now, if only her stomach would stay still… She patted the pocket of her dress to make sure the Mirror was still there.

Their procession made their way down several sets of staircases. Nia had the feeling they were several meters underground, though it was still quite warm. There were others going that way, too, giants, she-wolves, ankleslicers, dwarves…

Harfang was a city within a castle, alright. Nia supposed she would've felt at home here if she wasn't expecting to die in the near future, or if this Fenrir wasn't the reason why her grandparents were dead, not to mention a lover of her grandmother's.

They were walking down a large hallway, at the end of which was a pair of extremely large oak doors. The giants pushed it open and they all filed in, except Nia, Bree and Toulouse, and their entourage. Lupus had them wait until everyone was already inside and a few minutes more, and they entered.

The subterranean Great Hall of Harfang looked more like a throne room – a gigantic throne room – than a dining area. Everyone was already seated.

"It's Tumnus!" Toulouse murmured.

"Where?"

"There, at that table," he motioned with his head, and Nia saw a relatively small table where, sure enough, sat Mister Tumnus and a Beaver. "That must belong to some giantess's dollhouse."

"New arrivals," Lupus growled at the three companions, "behave accordingly in front of His Eminence."

Nia strained past the giants and their giant furniture, and saw Fenrir. "I thought you said he's a wolf."

Sitting on the throne was a young man, no older than eighteen. He was very, very handsome and strong-looking. If Sir Lancelot du Lake stepped out of a book and into real life, that was how Nia imagined he would look like.

"Now we know," Toulouse said sullenly, "what the White Witch had promised him."

**END OF CHAPTER**


	17. Oaths of Fealty

**CHAPTER 17: _Oaths of Fealty_**

Nia knew it. Nia knew the moment she saw Fenrir Lightningpaw that he'd betrayed Narnia for a handsome, well-built form. And, though he was, indeed, the most man Nia had ever seen, she couldn't help but be disgusted. This… creature (there was no other word to describe a wolf-turned-man seemingly gifted with immortality) was the reason why the Great Winter had actually happened. All right, so maybe he wasn't the sole reason – she wasn't about to credit him for that – but he had contributed a lot to Narnia's downfall.

Helaena must have hated him. Nia didn't know how her Mummy Lena felt about Fenrir – how little she knew about her mother! –and she couldn't figure out whether she hated this queer wolf-man or not. But she was deeply, overly disgusted with him. After all, what kind of knight would betray his liege lord for a handsome face? Did he actually think he could make Queen Swanwhite love him by being merely handsome?

If that was the case, he must have had a lower opinion of Nia's maternal ancestors than she first thought.

"Don't even think about it," Toulouse muttered.

"What?"

"I know that look on your face, Narnia."

"What look?"

"You look positively murderous," Toulouse replied softly and very seriously. "Look… Well, I expect looking friendly is out of the question. Er… could you try wiping out the disgust in you face?"

"Is it that obvious?" Nia bit back a laugh.

Toulouse nodded. "Please be careful, Nee. This man – creature – is nutters. No matter," he added sullenly, how pretty he is."

Nia looked at Fenrir, who was listening to something Lupus was whispering to him. He was handsome, alright. But that was only because he sold his country – not to mention his soul – to the White Witch.

No way was she going to trade Peter – honest, honorable Peter – for this… this snake!

Nia had no idea were that thought came from.

For a moment, Nia met Fenrir's eyes – a rather freaky golden color – and felt goosebumps rise on her skin. Fenrir had an unsettling, searching gaze. And his eyes only made him more unsettlingly handsome.

And now, those eyes flashed with something… could it be recognition? His gaze remained fastened on her and she couldn't bring herself to withdraw. If they were in a staring contest, it would've ended up in a tie. The late Duke of Kent, Nia's father, had always said that the Evenshires were proud – not arrogant, but proud. Nia had always thought it her weakness. People often said she was too proud. Her pride had prevented her from speaking to Peter even though the rest of her terribly wanted to do so.

Now, she was thankful she had it. She knew she couldn't – wouldn't – bow down before this… this…

She couldn't think of a more inventive, colorful word than traitor. It summed up what she thought of Fenrir.

Before she knew it, Fenrir Lightningpaw had stepped down from his throne and was standing in front of her. Right in front of her. How dare he? He must've recognized her eyes, the ancient royal family's eyes.

Fenrir suddenly took her hand and knelt on one knee. She could understand the shocked whispers of the rebel army around them as she stared at the wolf-man. Was he crazy?

Golden yellow eyes met hers as he said, in a deep voice that would send any of Nia's American cousins in a swooning fit, "I swear fealty to you, My Queen, by grace of the Lion who had Sung the world into existence, and by the blessing of the People, whom you see around you, here to witness my pledge. I pledge to you, on my life and honor, to serve you for the rest of my life, as long as you and I both live."

Nia was speechless. Fenrir Lightningpaw, leader of the rebel army threating the Pevensies, had sworn an oath of fealty to her! And she wasn't even someone anyone sane would pledge himself to! She tried very hard not to glance at Toulouse and Bree, let alone Mister Tumnus and Beaver. She could practically feel the Cat, who was on the floor, shaking with anger.

"I am not," Nia said, quite surprised and grateful at having found her voice at last, "the Queen of Narnia. By the blessing of the Lion and the People of Narnia, the current rulers are the ones sitting on their thrones at Cair Paravel." She said this loud enough for everyone to hear. It was, apparently, a big mistake.

The Hall had, for some reason, turned very quiet. And very cold.

"A royalist!" One giant rose on his feet and slapped the gigantic table with his hand hard. "A puppet of the Pevensies!"

Suddenly, everyone was shouting and banging their feasts on their tables. Fenrir stood up, cupped his hands over his mouth, and shouted "SILENCE!"

Well, it was a very loud shout that was, quite surprisingly, heard over the giants' din. The rebels, giants, et cetera, stopped yelling and pointing at Nia and her friends.

"No one," said Fenrir, his voice soft, his eyes glinting dangerously, "shall harm this young lady and her companions. If any harm has befallen any of them, I shall personally hunt the perpetrator down and punish them in such a way that they will be begging me to let them die far before it is over."

"Why couldn't you have shut your trap like you were supposed to," Toulouse was muttering to Nia, his tone angry and worried. "You'd have us killed in no time. Honestly, the last thing we need is you bringing up that stupid vow he made to your grandparents."

"Well, if he wants us dead, he sure has a weird way of showing it, giving us his protection," Bree whispered from beside them. "Unless of course, he wants to kill you himself. But he seems to be an honorable young man…"

"He _seems _to be," Nia said dryly. Bree didn't know. Maybe she'd tell him later. "I'm really sorry, Tou, Bree. I couldn't help myself."

Toulouse made a small sound that sounded very much like a snort. "You'll grow up a proud woman, Narnia. If you ever live to see yourself grow up, that is."

"Oh please, Tou," Nia felt pretty miserable now. "Don't say that."

Fenrir was finished with his minions it seemed. He knelt once again before the three friends and said, "If you may allow me to accompany you to your rooms, Milady? I fear 'tis more prudent to let you dine in your chambers than in the Great Hall."

"I wonder why," Toulouse muttered sarcastically as they walked out of the Hall.

* * *

It was already late and Peter was showing no signs of tiring. He wanted to catch up on whatever he missed during Council meetings. Susan and Edmund more than strongly suspected that this was partly because he wanted to distract himself from Nia. Lucy had already retired two hours ago, but Edmund and Susan, both much older than the Valiant Queen, weren't so lucky.

"Oh please, Peter," Edmund whined as Peter made more additions to the battle plans and moved those little flags here and there on the map, "it must be past midnight!"

Susan was ready to sleep in her armchair.

"The battle is in four days' time, Ed," Peter said, frowning on the map. "We have to be ready."

"Ready for what?" asked Susan rather irritably. "Slaughter? Butchering those Calormenes into pieces – or getting butchered yourself?"

Everyone knew what Susan felt about battles. It wasn't that she was afraid to fight for her country – far from it. But she couldn't stand killing anyone, for whatever reason. She strongly detested violence of any kind, especially warfare.

"What would you have me do?" Peter asked, more than a bit frustrated himself. "What would you have me do?"

"Let her rest," Edmund advised gently. His elder brother needed to be handled gently at times like this. "I mean, she's tired and she sat on the Council for the last eighteen hours…"

"I know we don't have any options," Susan said, her voice softening. This was the closest approximation of an apology Peter could get from Susan right now, "but I don't have to like it."

If the League of Nations back in their home world still existed, Susan would've made a very enthusiastic employee. At least she was doing an excellent job of mounting the castle's defenses.

Peter sighed. "You two can rest. Good night."

"But what about you?" Susan stood up and folded her arms over her chest. "You're going to need your strength, you know."

"I'll," Peter took a deep breath, "I'll go to bed in a few minutes. You go on. I won't be long."

Susan and Edmund reluctantly left the High King's office.

"He," said Edmund as they walked down the corridor and up several flights of stairs, "is going to kill himself."

"I'm worried about him," Susan said, practically wringing her hands in despair. "It's not healthy. We have to convince Nia to talk to him…"

"If there's still any Nia to talk to," Edmund said gloomily. "But then, she's got until tomorrow night before we have to confess to Peter and tell her Nia's probably dead by then."

"You know, I think we should wait until… Oh, I don't know, until everything's cooled down? Until the Calormene affair is over?"

"Is there ever a good time to tell him this? Honestly, Su, Peter will forego any diplomatic approach towards the rebels once he learns they killed Nia!"

"They killed Nia!" A shocked voice startled them out of their discussion as they turned a corner. "Who killed her?"

It was Lucy, wide-eyed with shock and horror.

Edmund and Susan exchanged looks of dismay.

"Oops."

* * *

"Who are you?"

Those were the first words Fenrir had said to her as they entered her room. Nia was confident her virtue was in no danger from him… Not while Bree had anything to say – or kick – about it. The food was already waiting, and it smelled good. Roasted mutton and giant-sized corn muffins set on a human-sized table.

"I hope this isn't a Talking Beast," Toulouse said, sniffing the mutton tentatively. "I don't want Aslan to curse me forever."

"I apologize," Fenrir said, bowing. "We will eat together and then we will talk. And there is no need to worry. I have banned the consumtion of Beasts in Harfang."

Nia looked askance at the steaming muffins. What if the food was poisoned?

As if reading her mind, Toulouse took a small bite of mutton and muffin and sipped the water from his bowl. "It's alright."

Dinner was a tense affair, with her trying her best not to look at Fenrir, who was examining her as if she was a specimen under a microscope. Both Toulouse and Bree, ready to stop him just in case, in turn, were watching Fenrir surreptitiously. The silence was like death.

The food was delicious. And Nia, who was really quite hungry and was never a fan of dieting to begin with, ate with barely suppressed gusto. She must've maintained a semblance of ladylike dignity because Fenrir was still as polite as ever after their dinner.

"I ask again, Milady," Fenrir said, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "Who are you? You remind me of someone I knew… I assumed you are her daughter, but then you seem to support the usurpers at Cair Paravel…"

"They aren't usurpers," Nia said, indignant on behalf of the Pevensies. "I mean, weren't you there during the battle against the White Witch? Aslan put them on their thrones. So they're Narnia's rulers by election and by conquest."

"Well, then, who are you?"

"I'm…" Nia looked at Toulouse. She wasn't sure how much she should tell about herself. Toulouse nodded. "I'm Nia Evenshire from England – that's where the Pevensies came from. I'm from the same country. They're – they've been my friends since we were children, so I hope you don't mind my being defensive when you say they're mere usurpers."

"I suppose that in your world, Lady Nia, a lot of people are related to the ancient rulers of Narnia?"

"I wouldn't know," Nia said. Toulouse had given her the go signal to be honest, but she still didn't trust Fenrir. "But I've never seen anyone who truly resembles me, or reminds me of myself."

"Then why are you in the company of two Talking Beasts?"

"Well, I've been in this world for some weeks now…"

"Actually," Toulouse butted in, "this girl you're talking to is Princess Helaena's daughter. Sorry, Nia, but I want to get this over with quickly."

"But you are not Narnian."

"Oh, honestly, Sir Lightningpaw, is any Narnian ruler ever truly Narnian? Perhaps you don't know this, but King Frank I, the first King of Narnia, and his wife, Helen, also came from England. Well, just in case you were wondering why on earth is Nia English when her mother's Narnian…" Toulouse bristled with barely suppressed anger.

"Toulouse is the last of the Royal Cats," Nia explained. "He was a kitten - mum's pet – when the Great Winter began." She watched his face as she said those words, wondering if he felt the slightest guilt for helping the White Witch conquer Narnia. His face could've been carved from stone. "Well, they survived the onslaught and were in hiding when they accidentally stumbled into our world. They couldn't return to Narnia, so they made a life for themselves in England."

Fenrir looked at Toulouse as if he never really saw the Cat before. Bree was looking at all of them in surprise. He didn't know about Nia's ancestry.

"So you," Fenrir said, bowing yet again to her as a knight would to a queen, "are the rightful queen of Narnia returned. I swear…"

"Haven't you been listening to a word we said?" Nia was feeling quite frustrated with Fenrir. "My family's rule ended at the onset of the Great Winter. And end which you had, by the way, brought about." She was very careful to put emphasis on the last sentence.

Fenrir gave a sad laugh. "I am afraid you do not understand, my Princess."

"I understand well enough alright," Nia always found standing was more comfortable than sitting when telling someone off, so she stood up. Besides, she was taller than Fenrir – when she was standing and he, sitting, that is. "You fell in love with my grandmother and betrayed my grandfather to the White Witch so you'd have Queen Swanwhite to yourself. But it backfired. Both the King and Queen and the entire court were killed and the White Witch took over Narnia. And then you swore fealty to me. How can I trust your oath when you managed to betray your liege lord, the King of Narnia?" Not that Nia Evenshire was someone you'd swear an oath to.

"You have never been in love, Nia," Fenrir smiled sadly. Why did the White Witch give him such a handsome face, anyway? "You do not understand."

"I think it was a pretty selfish love," Nia went on. "I mean, she clearly was happy with King Thorn…"

"You have not come all the way here to berate me for what I already know. I am already consumed with guilt. I have wronged and I hope to rectify it by putting Helaena to the throne…"

"You won't be able to," Toulouse said. "Nia's an orphan."

"Besides," said Nia, "you won't put me in any throne. The Pevensies are the rightful rulers of Narnia. So you might want to swear to them like, right now. We have a battle coming up in about four days' time. And if Narnia loses, then the Calormenes will conquer Narnia and enslave everyone, including everyone here in Harfang."

And then Fenrir grinned, showing off perfect pearly-white teeth. "For someone who does not want to rule, you appear to have no qualms imposing your will on anyone, Milady Nia."

Sir Fenrir Lightningpaw was impossible.

"It is not my will I'm imposing – heaven forbid I'm actually imposing anything. Actually, Aslan sent us here."

"The Lion…" Fenrir turned pale. Well, he was actually fair-skinned, if a bit tan, to begin with. But he seemed frightened.

Or was that proof of his guilt eating him up?

"Look," Nia said hurriedly, feeling a bit concerned. He seemed really shaken. "I apologize for being so… straight to the point. I know I have no right. I mean, I was just worried because we don't have enough time and Narnia is in danger… Are you alright?"

"You are the Lion's Messengers," Fenrir said slowly, his golden eyes taking them all in. "You are not travelers lost in Ettinsmoor… And you also are of King Frank's lineage. You are not here without reason."

"I think," said Toulouse acidly, "we already know that."

"Toulouse!" Nia scolded. "Be polite!"

"The time has come, then, for Narnia to unite. It may not be as I have originally planned, and it may be that I will serve you and serve they who sit at Cair Paravel through you, but I shall marshal my forces in aid of King Peter's."

King Peter. He'd just acknowledged Peter as King.

"Won't they object?" Bree asked, speaking for the first time. "I mean, everyone here seems to detest Their Majesties."

"I will speak to them. I am sure they will listen to me."

"Why should we trust you?" Toulouse said, repeating Nia's question. If he had eyebrows, he would be raising one of them right now. "You betrayed your liege lord. You broke your oath in return for a pretty face."

"Is there actually any proof that you can ever trust anyone at all? I want to make things right with Swa – with the former King and Queen. And I can only be able to do so through you." He looked intently at Nia. "You do not have to trust me, but let me at least support you in your cause."

Nia nodded. She didn't think she could've spoken, anyway. Bree neighed his assent while Toulouse remained silent for a few moments before nodding.

"And I ask you to bear witness to me as I swear fealty to Aslan, High King over all High Kings, as my oath to you, Milady, is null." The three companions looked at each other in surprise as Fenrir knelt and then raised his eyes to the heavens. "I, Fenrir Lghtningpaw, disgraced Knight of Narnia, humbly beg forgiveness, Aslan, High King over all High Kings. I swear fealty to you, on my life and my honor and entreat you to let me serve my nation in the best way I can…"

There was a lot more, but it all faded away to Nia's ears. Fenrir seemed nice, and she could tell he was sorry for betraying her ancestors. Sure, it wasn't an offense you could just forgive, but sometimes you just had to forgive them, anyway. Besides, she didn't want to dwell on Fenrir's betrayal – it would only make it harder for her to forgive and work with him. She wasn't exactly the most patient person in the universe.

Besides, she had a lot to tell Susan when Fenrir left the room.

**END OF CHAPTER**

_AN: Sorry for the long wait. My computer broke down for the last time and dad had to buy I new one. Well, anyway, here it is. RnR! Oh, and please read brezzy's fanfic "The Watcher". It's really wicked!_


	18. The Dwarven Forge

**CHAPTER 18: _The Dwarven Forge_**

"I don't understand," Lucy said, pouting at her elder sister and brother as they paced back and forth. "How could you keep such a thing from Peter?"

"Because we promised," Susan said, a little wearily.

Honestly, there was no use trying to explain the complicated tangle of emotions that was part of adolescence to their eleven-year-old sister. Besides, Edmund knew Peter couldn't be distracted right now.

"But why didn't she tell…"

"Look, Nia and Peter had an argument. You don't expect people who had arguments to talk to each other," said Susan. "At least, not right away." This sounded like an afterthought.

"You mean they had a fight?"

"Not a fight, honey. An argument." Susan was exasperated herself. Honestly, they should've spoken in French or something.

"You seriously have to tell Peter," Lucy insisted. "This concerns Narnia as well."

"We promised," Edmund said, speaking up. "A King or Queen who breaks his or her word is a ruler with no honor. Do you honestly want Nia to think that?"

"Nia doesn't think you have no honor."

"No. But she will. Worse, we ourselves will think we've no honor. Do you understand?"

"Well then, I'll tell Peter. That way, you won't have to break your promise and Peter will know." Then, she ran out of the room before anyone of them could stand up. Edmund ran after her right away, while Susan groaned and stalked after them a few seconds later.

This was going to be a long night.

* * *

"I don't trust him," Toulouse said petulantly for the nth time.

"Do you think _I _trust him?" Nia said irritably. "Honestly, Tou, I don't. But beggars can't be choosers. I dunno what's the penalty for breaking an oath to Aslan, but I do hope it's terrible enough to make him think a hundred times before breaking it."

Nia, Bree and Toulouse were in the giant bedroom Fenrir had them use, eating chicken soup and munching on biscuits the size of dinner plates. Fenrir had asked – _asked! _– them not to join the Harfangers for breakfast for the meanwhile, saying that they might still be offended at what had happened last night.

Nia would've given her paternal inheritance to know what Fenrir was doing at that very minute.

"What did Their Majesties say?" asked Bree, dipping his head in a bowl of grains that looked more like a small swimming pool than a bowl.

"I haven't talked to them yet," Nia admitted. She'd tried to contact Susan last night to no avail. The Queen wasn't in her chambers, and neither was Edmund. When she connected with the magical Mirrormere, the Hermit (whom Cor had named High Chancellor) answered and said that the Lady Aravis was already gone, sailing as fast as she could to Cair Paravel with the navy and if Lady Nia had a message she'd like to pass on…

To which Nia said she had none. She resolved to contact the Pevensies herself, even if it meant having to come face-to-face with Peter.

Not that she was still angry with him. She felt… well… ashamed of how she'd acted. And a meeting with Peter would be nothing short of embarrassing after all she put him through. And Nia couldn't really stand embarrassment.

But her pride would have to be put away for the meanwhile. She really had to give the Pevensies an update. Besides, aside from shame, she was feeling quite guilty for being such a…a bitch.

"Well, you should…" Toulouse gave a start as someone rapped on the door.

"Who's that?"

"I'm the Cat, you're the girl. Shouldn't you be the one answering the door, whoever that is?"

Sighing, Nia positioned her chair underneath the doorknob (which was above her head) and turned the knob. Lucky the gigantic door swung outwards. Whoever their visitor was, he'd leapt out of the way.

"It's me," Mister Tumnus hissed, motioning for Nia to come with him. Nia held her arms out to Toulouse, who jumped onto them. And then she, Toulouse, and Bree followed the Faun.

"What are you doing here?" Nia asked with barely suppressed delight as they walked down the corridor. It had been ages since she'd last seen the Faun. "And where are we going? I'm so glad to see you!"

"And I'm happy to see you, too," said Mister Tumnus, "though I wish we were someplace else."

The corridors were deserted, what with the Harfangers having their breakfast and all, but somehow, it made the entire place seem larger.

But then, she realized it had always been that way with her family's mansion in Kent. In the very few times she'd actually visited the place, it just seemed so huge. And lonely. If she ever got back to England, she vowed to herself she'd fill the Evenshire manor with people.

Not that she knew how to do it, but she figured she'd have to be in England first.

But honestly, Narnia was beginning to feel like home.

"As to why I'm here," Mister Tumnus continued. "I am the Narnian ambassador to Harfang, as is Mister Beaver, who is with Fenrir right now."

"But where are you taking us?"Toulouse asked as they descended several flights of stairs. "We're going to the Great Hall? But Fenrir…"

"We are not going to the Great Hall."

"But where…"

"It's a sort of surprise, really," Mister Tumnus said, speaking more softly. "And a secret as well. Best if you see it first before I tell you anything about it."

"I should've worn a cloak," Nia mused aloud as they turned a narrow corridor and descended several more stairs. They were far beneath the Great Hall (which, in turn, was far below the ground) now, and it was practically freezing. And dark as well. The only interruption in the general blackness of it all was the torch Mister Tumnus picked up along one of the sets lining the corridors above. This far underground, the surroundings gave off the feeling of disuse and decay.

Well, it wasn't really in a state of decay. But it seemed abandoned. Obviously, no one had been there for ages. And it had a musty, damp smell, like that tunnel under Anvard, only this was more… well… cavernous. And the steps had gone from a marble-stone hybrid to pure, disused stone steps several minutes ago.

"This," Toulouse whispered, taking in the darkness from his position, curled up in Nia's arms, "is scary."

"No, it isn't," Nia replied, her voice giving off that weird echo. "This is quite exciting, really. But honestly, Mister Tumnus, where are we going? What if Fenrir's looking for us?"

"Are we near?" asked Bree.

"Yes, quite," Mister Tumnus replied. "But then, I wanted to ask you why you're here. Who sent you? You've gone from south to North quite fast, you know."

"I'm…" Nia hesitated. Honestly, what was wrong with her? Mister Tumnus deserved to know. After all, he was stuck in this, too. "Aslan. He sent me here."

"Aslan sent you here?" Mister Tumnus sounded very shocked to hear this.

"Honestly, Mister Tumnus," Nia said quite defensively. "Aslan's got his reason for sending me – us – here. And don't tell me I'm just a little girl. Alright, maybe I am young, but I can do this. I've already made progress, you know, considering we only arrived last night. Didn't you hear him swear fealty to me? Maybe it's null, but just the same. And he swore fealty to Aslan right after…" She trailed off as Mister Tumnus stopped dead, turned back, and gazed at her intently with those big blue eyes of his.

"He what?"

"He swore fealty to Aslan," Nia repeated. "Ask them," she said, motioning at Bree and Toulouse. "They were there. We're witnesses."

"Fenrir Lightningpaw," Mister Tumnus said very slowly, "swore fealty to Aslan."

Nia couldn't blame him. She was shocked when she saw Fenrir bent on one knee, swearing fealty to Aslan. And she had actually _seen _him do it.

"You better believe it, bud," Toulouse said. "In Aslan's name, I swear he did it."

Mister Tumnus nodded, apparently digesting this, and they continued their descent.

"Is this supposed to be the journey to the center of the earth or something?" Nia asked, trying to make a joke. This effort was sadly wasted on Bree and Mister Tumnus, since Jules Verne didn't exist in this world; hence, no one here had read _Journey to the Center of the Earth. _And Toulouse was feeling gloomy. He was a particularly moody cat.

* * *

After what seemed like several millennia, Mister Tumnus finally stopped in front of a pair of large stone doors. There wasn't much to say about the doors really, except that they were unremarkable. And Nia was too cold to notice them, anyway.

"I-is t-this it?" Nia stuttered, setting the Cat down and rubbing her shoulders briskly. "W-what is this?"

"Watch,' said Mister Tumnus, smiling. He knocked seven times on the door, four times soft and three times hard, then waited.

Suddenly, the entire thing – the doors – rumbled as they swung inwards to reveal…

"An armory," Nia whispered. Not that she'd seen an actual armory back in England, but she knew this was one, based on descriptions from books.

The air rang with hammers striking iron, with metals hissing as recently molded weapons were dipped in large pools of water (which, in turn was fed by underground streams – the armory was in a cavern, and a very large one at that) to cool.

And every blacksmith (and goldsmith) in the place was a dwarf. What was surprising was that a there were less than a hundred of them working here, for an armory so large.

The place was so noisy, it was a wonder they weren't heard, what with all the clanging and hissing and…

A stout dwarf with flaming red hair and flashing gray eyes appeared in front of them. He was quite tall for a dwarf – he stood up to Nia's shoulder, and she wasn't exactly petite – taller than all the other dwarves in Harfang.

"Aye, who may you be?" the red-haired dwarf asked roughly. "I know ye, Tumnus. But who is the daughter of Eve and the two Beasts?"

"This is Lady Nia of…" Mister Tumnus looked questioningly at Nia.

"Kent," Nia supplied, smiling in what she hoped was a winning smile. "And these are my friends, Toulouse and Bree."

"By the Lion!" The dwarf blinked and looked at the Cat. "Are ye the Toulouse, the last Royal Cat? The familiar of the illustrious Princess Helaena?"

"Might be," Toulouse said nonchalantly.

"I'm Reginbrik, master of the Armory of the Lion. And this is… the Armory of the Lion. Come in. The light's better inside."

Nia had the feeling that this armory – Aslan's armory – was top secret. No one in the upper city new its existence.

It was considerably hotter inside the armory, but it seemed very interesting. Nia wanted to have a tour, but Reginbrik ushered them through a small doorway and into a small, rather cramped office. The dwarf sat behind his desk (which was littered with dozens of paperwork) and said, "I haven't introduced myself properly, my Lords and Milady. I am Reginbrik Swordarm, overseer of the Armory of the Lion. My people and I have been working under Ettinsmoor for several hundreds of years now, in utter secrecy. Under Aslan's orders, we've secretly supplied the Royal Army with weapons through our kin there. We've served the Narnian monarchs under Aslan's direction until the Great Winter, and even then, we continued making weapons, undetected, under Lightningpaw's nose."

"His nose isn't as sharp as people say it is, if he couldn't sniff you out," Nia laughed. Not only was the armory itself interesting. It was also intriguing, in a Sherlock Holmes kind of way. This was the elite armory, the Armory of Armories in this world.

"I'm one of their 'people' now," Mister Tumnus sighed. "Aslan spoke to me in my sleep and told me to go here and… Well, the rest, to coin the phrase, is history."

"Ye know," said Reginbrik thoughtfully, looking at her, "Ye do remind me of the old Queen Swanwhite. I was yet to be born then, you understand, but we have portraits here somewhere. Ah… Swanwhite. She was the most beautiful woman anyone in Narnia had ever seen. More beautiful than that otherworldly queen, Susan… No wonder Fenrir fell in love with her. Ain't it strange that her daughter's familiar is traveling with you, Lady Nia?"

Nia knew that Reginbrik had heard of Fenrir swearing fealty to her. Reginbrik may sound lie a sailor (though she was yet to hear him swear like one)

"I'm sure you heard," she said, "that Fenrir himself mistook me for Queen Swanwhite's daughter, Helaena."

"Ye're her daughter," said Reginbrik. "I know. You don' look like yer gran tho' you remind me of her. What happened to yer mam?"

Yet again, Nia was obliged to tell him her mother's story. She tried very hard not to cry, though her voice cracked when she got to the part about her parents getting killed by the Nazis.

God, it was so annoying, her voice cracking over the most unfortunate parts.

Reginbrik was near tears at the end of her story. "She must've been a grand dame, yer mam. By the Lion, I miss mine!"

And then, Nia knew, by some gut feeling, that Reginbrik would be her friend until the end of time.

* * *

A short while later, Reginbrik gave the three companions a tour of the Armory. It was a wonderful place, even though the stench of polish and sweat was quite strong. There were giant furnaces were the dwarves heated metal so they could be shaped, and there were the pools, which looked very clean and cool in spite of having been used to cool metal after forging for hundreds of years. The dwarves were a cheery lot, even though they swore like sailors (Reginbrik was obviously restraining himself). It didn't matter to Nia that they cursed within earshot. They were a jolly lot, and she loved them.

The weapons were incredible. The swords and axes were made of an iridescent metal called Aslium and were much sharper than ordinary steel. It was also unbreakable and never dulled. Many of them were given a silver coating to disguise them as ordinary steel. Reginbrik gave Peter's sword, Rhindon (which Nia was yet to see) as an example of silver-coated Aslium sword. Reginbrik said that the Armory provided the royal family's weapons and armor and that Father Christmas used to come to them for presents for the prince or princess before the Great Winter. The swords were surprisingly light. Nia lifted one of them and raised it high so that the shimmering blade caught the light from the furnace.

"We should make you one," Reginbrik said, staring at her in awe. "Immediately."

The hilts were quite simple, actually, aside from the occasional carvings of Aslan. On the whole, these swords were more attractive than the ones displayed in her family estate.

The shields were made of the same material and were coated with the same silver coating used for swords. The suits of armor (helmets, chain mail, et cetera) were made from a sort of silver called mithril, which could only be found in Ettinsmoor. It was ten times as hard as iron and a lot more shiny. But the arrows drew Nias sttention the most.

"What's this made of?" Nia asked, holding up one, examining the golden brown feathers at the end.

"Ah, Milady," said the Fletcher, "this is made of mahogany. See that shiny point? That's Aslium – it's the metal we use for all weapons. And the feathers? Gryphon feathers. They never miss their target, though I'd prefer phoenix feathers, which are impossible to get."

"Why impossible?"

"Because no one knows where the phoenixes nest, Milady."

"Just call me Nia."

"Well, it's a mystery where they molt, Nia," the Fletcher said, grinning. "But I can give you a special bow and arrow set. What are your initials, anyway?"

"You're going to give me one of those?" Nia was surprised. These people didn't even know her. And they were already offering her a sword and an archery set to rival the ones Peter and Susan owned.

It was just a little shocking, that's all.

"Aye," said Reginbrik. "You obviously want to have both, and something tells me you will put them to good use soon enough. We can spare you an armor as well, if you…"

"No," Nia said quickly. "No suits of armor, thank you very much. It's NE, by the way, for Nia Evenshire." Or even Narnia Evenshire.

"Just wait," Reginbrik said, smiling. "We've lots of surplus. In fact, we're extending our services to the generals and the rulers of Archenland. We'll just have your set engraved and we're done! Now, do we disguise your sword or not? Do you want a shield? We've lots of shields!"

Nia couldn't believe it. She was going to have her own weapons… be a warrior maiden!

She had always wanted to be a lady knight. Of course she knew she'd have to kill. Nia had always preferred diplomacy to war. But it was an honor, to be served by the Armory of the Lion. And she knew she couldn't tell anyone – not even Narnia's monarchs, but still. Heck, she didn't even know why Mister Tumnus shared this... knowledge with her!

As Reginbrik led her back to the swords so they could size them up against her, she thought she could see Aslan smiling down at her.

* * *

"Nia's going to be fine Peter," Susan practically shouted at her brother. "She's not a baby and she isn't one of your ladylike types. Alright, maybe she is, but she can take care of herself just fine. You know why she didn't tell you? Because she knew you'd try to stop her. You know why we didn't tell you?" Aside from the fact that they _promised._ "Because we knew you'd act like that."

They were in Peter's office and it was running close to tea time.

"I just wish," Peter said coldly from where he'd been polishing his sword, "that people trusted me more."

"We trust you, Peter," said Edmund, trying to keep calm. "It's just that we can't have you… well, distracted."

"Me? Distracted? I thought you knew me better."

"We know you love her, Peter," Edmund said sadly. "Even if you don't want to admit it to yourself."

With that, he came out of the room, with Susan huffing after him.

* * *

Peter watched as Edmund and Susan got out of the room.

Did they think he didn't acknowledge that? He loved her. He loved Nia, right from the moment he'd seen her again through that Mirrormere. Maybe he began loving her even before that. Maybe he began loving her before she left for America.

And it was killing him that she didn't tell him where she was, what she planned. It was killing him that none of them knew what was going on right now.

But he had a war to prepare for. He was the champion of his people, the High King of Narnia. He was running the show. He couldn't afford to get distracted.

By the Lion, did he love her!

**END OF CHAPTER**


	19. The Outcasts

**CHAPTER 19: _The Outcasts_**

Many years later, when Nia was old and gray and had many children sitting on her lap, she would never be able to remember how she made the return journey from the depths of the earth (also known as Aslan's Armory) back to her room in the upper city without anyone (especially Fenrir) knowing.

She could remember the feelings, though. Exhilaration. Excitement. Euphoria.

She had always wanted to be a warrior maiden, like Mulan.

"Would you stop that?" Toulouse said irritably.

"What?" Nia asked, smiling. She couldn't help but smile. She had a sword and an archery set. She made it back to her rooms before lunch. No one caught them (but that was because the entire city was planning its next move – Harfang's citizens were still in war meeting, though the giantess who'd delivered her lunch assured her that she'd be summoned within the next three hours). Mister Tumnus had gone to the meeting shortly after they'd returned to the upper city.

"Stop smiling like a lunatic. Honestly, if that – that Lightningpaw could see you now, he'd immediately suspect we're up to something."

Sometimes, Toulouse could be such a worrywart.

Nia continued eating her lunch (Bree and Toulouse had already finished theirs), which consisted of honeyed spare ribs and mushroom soup. For all their bloodthirstiness and ruthlessness, these giants sure knew how to make delicious meals. Of course, Toulouse had to make sure they were eating ordinary animals – not Animals (the giants were famous for Animal-eating as well as cannibalism, though Nia had yet to see evidence of that).

She wondered what the Pevensies were doing now. They were probably eating lunch, but then, maybe not. Cor's army was probably encamped in Narnia now, concealed from the Calormenes. Aravis was on her way to Cair Paravel – she was probably there already!

"You should contact them, you know," said Bree. "Their Majesties will be anxious to hear of our progress."

Nia knew Bree was right, but she didn't think she could face Peter yet. She finished her lunch and picked up her sword, which was lying on the bed. Toulouse said the scabbard had a rather girly color. Alright, so the dwarves had dyed the leather a rather fetching indigo color. It wasn't that girly. It could've been worse. The dwarves could've dyed it pink. Embossed on the scabbard were Nia's initials, NE. Nia felt a lump on her throat everytime she saw it.

The hilt was as simple as the hilts of the other swords in the Armory, smooth (but dull) metal engraved with images of the Lion But it was the sight of the blade that took Nia's (and everyone else's) breath away. She drew the blade and admired it for the nth time. It was silver-coated, to be true, butt it was exquisite, just the same.

"Honestly, are you going to moon over that thing forever?" The impending summons to the war meeting was making everyone jumpy, especially Toulouse. "We have to contact the Pevensies NOW! We're in a deathtrap here, in case you haven't noticed."

Nia nodded mutely, sheathing her sword and shoving it under the bed (just in case anyone came in unannounced). She did the same with her bow and arrows. She got her Mirror from her pocket and flipped it open.

She'd delayed long enough. This was more than just a matter of life and death. Personal feelings would have to wait.

She just wished butterflies would stop fluttering in her stomach.

"Queen Susan the Gentle," she said, not bothering to specify which mirror in Cair Paravel she wanted he image shown. Wherever Susan was, Nia would appear on the nearest flat, reflective surface.

She just hoped the Pevensies weren't eating lunch.

Lunch was a very, very tense affair. Neither Edmund nor Susan was trying to make conversation – they were too annoyed at Lucy for being such a tattletale, and too embarrassed to talk to Peter. Peter wasn't talking to anyone, either. He was too incensed at Susan and Edmund to converse with them about anything but the war (yet) and he wasn't in the mood to make cheerful talk with Lucy. And Lucy was quiet because… she was a sensitive girl after all and knew it wasn't the time to talk.

Peter chewed his meal without really noticing what he was eating, his mind full of battle strategies and those little flags Oreius had placed on the map of Narnia in his study.

Nia's face appeared in his mind, and he pushed it away. He couldn't do anything for her now, except pray that Aslan knew what he was doing when he sent Nia to Harfang.

By the Lion, he really wanted to see her again! Alive, that is. He didn't think he'd be able to handle seeing her dead. He wanted to hear her lively, vivid voice again. He wanted to see her eyes again… Those exquisitely dark pools which had, for the past few weeks, held him captive in their frankness and intelligence.

The large mirror on the wall behind Lucy, across Peter (it was, after all, a private dining room) began to shift and ripple. Peter, so consumed in his thoughts, didn't notice. He didn't even notice the whistling sound coming from the mirror. None of them did – they were too busy maintaining their forced silence.

"You don't whistle in front of Their Majesties!" a rather horsy voice said, affronted. It sounded from far away. Startled, all four of them jumped.

"How else was I supposed to get their attention, anyway?" Nia. There was no doubt about it. And there she was, her face filling the mirror, looking at someone past them – or past her own wonderful Mirror. She looked kind of different. Her hair was till mousy brown, but it looked rather shiny now, her ringlets tied back with a ribbon Her complexion had become more luminous, though not as porcelain-like as Susan's. When Nia left Cair Paravel nearly two months ago, she was a young schoolgirl who was confused by everything around her. Now, she was a young lady, a flower in bloom (and still blooming). She looked like a Princess of Narnia, more sure of herself than she was when Peter had last seen her. "'Good day, my Lords and Ladies'? I don't think so…" Suddenly, all they could see was a flesh-colored thing with lots of whorls and lines.

Nia had covered her Mirror with her hand.

"God, how embarrassing," Nia muttered to herself a few moments later. Bree had chastised her in front of them! In front of Peter!

Goodness knows what he thought of her now.

"We'll keep watch," Toulouse offered, and Bree moved towards the door, muttering about disrespect and whatnot…

God, Peter was so gorgeous! And seeing him again… Nia had a few moments to straighten her thoughts and make sure she wasn't as red as an apple. Finally, she decided it was safe to remove her hand. She took a deep breath and…

"Alright," she said, concentrating on Edmund, who was seated at Peter's right. "I'm already here."

Edmund looked uncomfortably at his brother (who was blatantly staring at her) and said, "Oh er…"

"Alright," she said, thinking fast. The trick was not to look at Peter. And speak fast. "The Harfangers are currently sequestered in the Great Hall right now. There are talks of combining their forces with yours in the battle against the Calormenes. I will join them there in a few minutes. Also, Fenrir has sworn fealty to Aslan, although we find his sincerity somewhat questionable, as Toulouse has recently revealed that he betrayed the last of the ancient monarchs of Narnia to the White Witch."

"Nia," Susan began, but Nia cut her off.

"I have also seen Mister Tumnus and Beaver, although I…"

"Nia." This time, it was Peter who spoke, his tone regal and commanding.

Nia stopped. She could feel her face turning red and tried very hard not to cover it with her hands.

"I know." This time, he spoke in a much more gentle manner. It was both soothing and unsettling at the same time. "Lucy told me."

"She overheard," Edmund said rather sheepishly. Nia glanced at the little girl staring wide-eyed at her and made a mental note never to tell Lucy her secrets.

"Oh," Nia said, struggling to maintain the steadiness of her voice. "That's alright, really."

"I hope you aren't angry," Lucy piped up. "I mean…"

"It's alright. I'm not angry. Well, anyway…"

"Nia." It was Peter again. His saying her name gave her chills up her spine. This was definitely not healthy. "We have to talk."

She didn't want to talk to Peter. Not now. This was too embarrassing…

Someone knocked on the door. "Milady? It is time."

Fenrir. He'd come to escort her to the Hall himself. And quite frankly, he couldn't have arrived at a better time.

"I'm really sorry, but they're summoning me now." She tried her best to look sorry. "I'll tell you what happens later." With that, she broke the connection, heaved a sigh of relief, and joined Fenrir.

He saw her for less than five minutes. Less than five measly minutes.

Peter didn't know whether he ought to laugh or to cry.

"What do we know about Fenrir Lightningpaw?" he asked his siblings in an attempt to master himself.

"He's the commander and ruler of Harfang," said Edmund. "The king and queen of the giants are merely figurative heads acting under his orders. He wasn't in the Battle of Beruna – in fact, he didn't figure much during the White Witch's rule. Aside from that, we know nothing about him. Our ambassadors describe him as a strikingly handsome young man of about eighteen, tall, with dark hair and queer, yellow eyes. I don't know why or how he came to be the ruler of Harfang, but I'll sk around. Maybe some of the tree nymphs know…"

"I'll do that," said Susan. "You should be thinking about the Calormenes, not this Fenrir fellow… And if you ask me, there's something quite lupine about his name."

"What," said Lucy, "is lupine?"

"It means wolf-like."

"And I think there's something about this Fenrir chap that Nia's hiding from us," said Edmund. "Maybe I'll be able to worm the answer out of her. He sounds like a dangerous fellow…"

"He swore fealty to Aslan," said Susan. "That accounts for something, don't you think? But then, we don't know anything about this Fenrir Lightningpaw. And that could be fatal, not just to Nia but to all of us here in Narnia."

No. Nia couldn't die. Aslan wouldn't let that happen.

"Susan's right." Peter wiped his mouth with a napkin and stood up. "Let Susan do the delving on Fenrir, Ed. We have a lot to do."

Nia was not just nervous. She was very, very nervous. After last night's debacle, every Harfanger in the room – a good thousand or so renegade Narnians – were watching her very closely. Nia felt she was being scrutinized under a microscope. Which was true in a way since most of the people there were giants, the least of them at least ten times larger than she was.

It was very unsettling.

At least they weren't as unsettling as Peter, with his sparkling blue eyes that could turn gray when he was troubled and that gorgeous mane of golden hair. Not to mention his deep, commanding voice, which was most appealing, indeed…

Anyway, back to the situation at hand.

The Harfangers were refusing to join Peter's army in the fight against Calormen.

And why would they? They were no longer citizens of Narnia. Their years of serving the White Witch and terrorizing their fellowmen had forever removed them for grace. These people were the Pariahs of Narnia. They were outcasts, shunned be everyone. Feared by everyone.

Gawgon, King of Giants, was arguing precisely that.

"What good," he wanted to know, "will that do to us? We are no longer citizens of Narnia. The new monarchs have denied us citizenry…"

See?

Not that the Pevensies could be blamed. One hundred years was really quite too much. The ordinary – that is to say, the pro-Aslan – Narnians were too traumatized to accept the Harfangers. They fought for the Pevensies in the War, so Peter and his siblings had to please them because they needed these Narnians' support.

Politics reeked. And the worst part is, it still does.

And Nia had to talk to them again. She had to get their side. These people – the giants – would fight, yes, but they wouldn't fight well. Nia believed that brains would always defeat brawn. These people needed motivation. They would defend Harfang to the last, if it came to that, but they wouldn't really help Narnia. Their arrival would even complicate things instead of making them simpler.

This really was a matter of life and death.

Sunsets at Narnia were always magnificent. That was why Peter always made it a point to go to the beach and watch the sun disappear below the horizon. It was his break from everyone at the castle. Which was also why he was sitting on the sand now, the water lapping at his feet, instead of polishing his armor.

Besides, he needed to gather his thoughts.

He knew he needed to focus on the war and the survival of his people (nothing more, nothing less). But the mere sight of Nia, his best friend, intoxicated him. It was really hard to explain, because he'd never felt that way about anyone before. He'd heard of it, but he'd never expected to feel it at age sixteen.

And never, in his wildest dreams, did he expect to fall for Narnia F. Evenshire.

Who was, by the way, only fourteen and probably didn't feel the same way. Not in a million years.

But she was so intelligent and brave and kind, not to mention beautiful. And those eyes… He couldn't even count the number of times he got lost in her coffee brown eyes. Her eyes could express extreme joy or extreme sorrow, but there was always a glimmer of intelligence in them. He wished he could look at them forever, get lost in them for eternity…

"Oh, there he is," a rather cross female voice cut in his thoughts. "He sits here staring at the sea while we do our homework."

"It's obvious, isn't it?" This time, the speaker was a young adolescent male. "He's thinking about _her_."

"Well I do hope I don't act that… pathetic when I fall in love."

"What's pathetic?" A younger, more childish female voice asked loudly.

"Never mind," the older girl growled. Peter didn't have to turn around to know that it was his siblings psychoanalyzing him. Again. He could practically see Susan rolling her pale blue eyes. Footsteps told him his siblings were approaching.

"There's not much on Fenrir, anyway," said Susan, daintily settling down beside him. "The people who knew him personally are dead, and what people now know are mostly hearsay. They say he's a fierce warrior. That he was once a warrior for King Thorn, but he betrayed his king for something the White Witch offered him."

"So basically, he's a greedy git who'd betray his liege lord for a measly prize?"

"I'd say he is," said Edmund, who'd plunked down gracelessly on Peter's other side. "But I think there's more to the story. I don't know what it is, but there's something."  
"Something the only living person from that era could tell us," Susan added quietly.

Peter's mouth dropped open. "Toulouse? But he was only a kitten back then…"

"Well, he's extremely smart for a Talking Beast, isn't he? Maybe his perception developed early."

Lucy frowned at the water. She couldn't really understand what her siblings were saying. Only that Susan was being smart, again.

Honestly, why did they always use deep words, anyway? Maybe they could explain it in layman terms…

Lucy smiled impishly to herself. _Layman, layman, layman…_

She'd read that word in a dictionary, since she got fed up with her father mentioning the word over and over and over again and she was the only one who couldn't understand.

She wished Aslan would show himself. Everyone in the palace was speaking of war and other whatnot. Honestly, everyone's so… violent!

She wished the Calormenes would go stick their hands up their noses and stay at home. What did they need Narnia for, anyway? If their empire got any bigger, they wouldn't have anyplace else to conquer.

Wait… Something was wrong with the water. It was now a pinkish color with some browns and lavenders…

"Psst!" the water whispered, a reddish portion of it moving along with the sound. "It's me."

Nia's image was in the water.

"You have to see this," said Nia as the Pevensie siblings backed away from the water in alarm. Her voice sounded strange. It sounded hollow. Not to mention frantic.

"Where are you?" Peter asked. He thought Nia's image looked rather like one of those Parisian impressionist paintings – a shadowy version of the real thing.

Nia's voice dropped to what seemed like a whisper, though it sounded a lot like an echo. "I'm in the Great Hall. They're deciding whether they'd fight for you or not." Then, she took a deep breath. "And honestly, if I were these people, I wouldn't, too."

"What are you saying?" Edmund asked.

"You have to see this."

And the view shifted away from impressionist Nia and into the rest of Harfang's Great Hall.

It was tricky business, trying to keep the Mirror from someone noticing it. It wasn't really strange to see a girl looking at herself on a mirror. It was a lot queerer to see a girl with the reflective part of the mirror pointed _away _from her.

"Be careful with that thing," Toulouse whispered, looking anxiously at Fenrir.

"I know," Nia hissed, maneuvering the Mirror so that the Pevensies could watch clearly without being seen. "Just keep quiet, will you?"

After ten minutes, Nia's hand began to tire. The debate was endless. Nominally, Gawgon was the ruler of Harfang, but it was Fenrir who really ran the show. But the Harfangers were winning the debate. She couldn't blame them, but she didn't want Peter to lose the war.

She couldn't bear to think of Peter and Edmund getting themselves killed and Susan and Lucy sold to some cruel master in Calormen. She had to do something. And she knew she had to do something for these outcasts here in the far North, too. They couldn't go on living like this. Nothing good would come out of the schism between Cair Paravel and Harfang, anyway. It was bound to end in bloodshed sooner than later.

After twenty minutes, Nia's hand was practically immovable. Using her other hand, she twisted the Mirror so it was, once again, facing her.

"Well?" she whispered rather impatiently, with Toulouse as her lookout. "What are your plans?" The Pevensies had surely heard enough of the debate to know what the Harfangers thought of them.

Peter's face was serious, his blue eyes, sometimes sapphire, sometimes a stormy gray, were thoughtful.

"Nia," he said, his voice as regal as any king's. "Let me speak to the people of Harfang."

**END OF CHAPTER**

_**Author's Note: **So, here's Chapter 19, published a few months after 18. Sorry for the long delay. I've been so busy with school. I know that it's summer there in Europe and America, but here in the Philippines, we already have school. I'm new at college, so I'm still trying to get used to the system. My updates will be irregular and there will be long waits in between. I hope I'll be able to finish this before New Year, though. And Brezzy, I'm really sorry I haven't finished beta-ing your story. Also, sorry for the lack of spacing and rules. There's something wrong with the rule button._


	20. Anything but Calm

**CHAPTER 20: _Anything but Calm_**

It was a fine day for sailing, indeed. The skies were blue, the ocean calm. The wind was blowing northward, speeding up the journey for the Archenlanders.

Aravis felt knots in her stomach as she leaned over the railings. They had to travel quickly to Cair Paravel, but they also had to keep out of sight of the Calormene navy sailing ahead. Every time they caught sight of the black-and-orange masts, they had to fall back or else all would be lost. She had to admit Cor's navy looked shabby, but that was the best they could do in a span of less than a fortnight. And at least the men showed passion for the seas.

The plan was to sandwich the Calormene navy between the defenders at Cair Paravel and the Archenlanders. Knowing her kin and their might, she knew the chances of preventing the Calormene party from landing were nil.

It was a dismal picture and she told her shipmates aboard the _King Lune _(which was the name of the ship) so.

"Ay, lass," said Alf, the deckhand. "But them Narnians are a force worth reckonin' if I do say so myself, I do."

Aravis knew very well the Kings and Queens at Cair Paravel had not set up a proper navy yet – they were only a year into their reign after all. The valor of the Narnians would matter little against the might of the Calormenes. And so would Cor's ragtag navy…

Aravis bent over the side of the ship and threw up.

* * *

"Aha!" cried Gawgon triumphantly. "A spy from Peter's court! I told you Fenrir, that little wench could not be trusted!"

"But…" Nia began.

"How long have you been in contact with the usurpers? I know what you plan… You seek to plant a seed of revolt in Harfang, eh?"

"This isn't one of Peter's brighter ideas," Toulouse muttered, sinking deeper in her arms. Bree stood beside them, and so did Mister Tumnus and the Beaver. Indeed, the ambassadors looked as if they were about to be executed.

Actually, all Nia and Toulouse did was approach Fenrir and the giant King and tell them that the High King of Narnia had a message for them. Gawgon sort of overreacted and hauled all the Narnians before him.

Gawgon continued his tirade. "Such a deception! Of course, Peter would use a pretty girl as a spy, wouldn't he? I've never seen such an underhanded scheme, but then, seeing as…" and so on.

Fenrir was just staring at her, his unsettling eyes shining. Mister Tumnus and the Beaver were looking at her accusingly. Every eyes there were on them. On her.

_This is my fault. _

"Nia," Fenrir said suddenly, interrupting the giant. "Give me the Mirror."

"Oh, but…" Nia put her hand in her pocket and glanced at her companions.

They stared back at her. _Thanks a lot._ She took a deep breath and gave the Mirror reluctantly to Fenrir. Everyone was quiet.

"How did you get this?" Fenrir asked quietly, his voice cold.

"Aslan gave it to me," she replied, her voice shaky. She wanted to cry. She'd never been this scared before. "I'm not Peter's spy! Aslan gave it to me and entrusted me and Toulouse and Bree to go here to convince you to help them defeat the Calormenes…"

"There you go," said someone from the crowd.

"She's as good as admitted it!" said another.

"But I didn't! I am not a spy! Aslan sent me here! I swear! By the Lion, I swear it's true!"

"Then why does Aslan not do it himself, little princess?" asked Gawgon menacingly. "Why does he have to send such a motley bunch as you are?"

"We don't know," Bree said suddenly. "Look, we dare not question the Lion's motives."

"The Ambassadors have nothing to do with this," Nia added quickly. "They knew nothing of our mission. Peter knew nothing of our mission until just now! We didn't divulge any of your secrets, I swear!"

"Oh, really?" Gawgon raised a bushy eyebrow. "I say we send all of them to the gallows! The treaty's null and void now."

"But –but…" the Narnians (for Nia considered herself a Narnian now) sputtered as one.

"I say, listen to the girl!" a teeny voice shouted from the crowd. Reginbrik and some of his fellows from the Armory stepped forward. "You can't question Aslan's motives for sending the girl and her friends. It may be that Aslan thinks its high time we listen to him, and what better emissary than King Thorn's granddaughter, a former Royal Cat, and a southern Horse?"

"Why," remarked Gawgon, going red in the face, "of all the impudent…"

"Hear us please, sire," Reginbrik continued. "I think we should at least help the Narnians drive back these conquerors. After all, if they manage to conquer Narnia, we, too, will be affected. And sires, I think it is high time we go back to Narnia. After all, were we not Narnians in origin? I am sure Aslan will be just and will grant Harfang autonomy. Think about it,sirs. If we become an autonomous province of Narnia, the High King will not require our presence except in battle, and any challenge to Narnia is a challenge to Harfang."

The Harfangers murmured loudly. Nia couldn't understand what they were saying – the sounded a lot like giant buzzing bees – but their agreement was quite obvious.

"He speaks sense," Fenrir muttered, and then louder he said, "Very well, I shall speak to King Peter and his consorts. Meanwhile, Harfang shall prepare for battle, immediately."

Nia could hardly believe what she was hearing. Fenrir agreed. And Gawgon wasn't exactly opposing him either. In fact, he was already shouting orders for everyone in the room to prepare for battle.

"Does that mean," Mister Tumnus whispered, "that we're saved?"

"I don't know," Nia whispered back. "I'm so sorry I got you into this."

"That's alright, girl," said Beaver comfortingly. "Aslan won't let anything happen to us."

As everyone else in the room moved out, including Gawgon, Fenrir turned to the Narnians. "You say the High King Peter wishes to speak to me. Well then," he handed the Mirror back to Nia. "You shall contact him for me."

Nia nodded and said, "I wish to converse with Peter the High King of Narnia."

Her reflection swirled, and the image changed to reveal Peter anxiously waiting in his study.

"What happened?" he demanded. "Are you alright?"

She did not say anything, and gave the Mirror to Fenrir.

"You may go," said Fenrir to them. "I wish to converse with the High King alone."

* * *

"I'm so sorry!" Nia broke into tears as soon as they (that is, she, Toulouse, Bree, Beaver, and Mister Tumnus) were in her room. "I didn't mean to involve you! I…"

"Everything's going to be fine, Nia," Beaver said comfortingly. "Besides, His Majesty, the High King, ordered you to. It was for the best, and it worked!"

"And we succeeded, didn't we?" said Bree. "The Harfangers are on our side now."

"It was Reginbrik who finally convinced them," Toulouse replied. "Not us."

"But it was you who convinced Reginbrik to speak up, my children," said a familiar voice from behind them.

"Aslan!" they all exclaimed, turning around. Sure enough, the Lion was there, standing before the large window. All of them felt a lot calmer and more assured at the sight of Him. Indeed, Nia was quite sure the battle was theirs.

"We were so scared, Aslan," Toulouse said quietly. "But everything will be fine, won't it?"

"The citizens of Harfang are a proud, hardened people, so you must forgive them for scaring you."

"Indeed, they've been kind to us," said Nia. "They are kinder than I expected!"

"What did you expect, child?" asked Aslan.

"I expected them to be more brutish… More barbaric."

"I've heard they were cannibals!" Toulouse blurted out. "The courtiers at Cair Paravel long ago said so."

Aslan let out a soft growl that startled them all. And then he growled some more. Nia soon realized he was only laughing.

"What's so funny?" Toulouse demanded irritably. Then, he realized who he was talking to and added, "Your Majesty."

"The people of Harfang have eaten Animals, yes," said Aslan, amused. "So that is cannibalism for you. But you can only imagine how a Son of Adam (and a Daughter of Eve) would react if you told them the giants are cannibals."

"You mean they don't eat humans?" asked Nia.

"It still is cannibalism, I suppose, though it is not cannibalism in your sense of the word. My children, remove your fear of the Giants from your hearts. There is nothing to be gleaned from dwelling to much on them."

Much later in Narnian history, another set of children from our world would find this untrue. But that was much, much later, long after the time of Peter the High King and his brother and sisters. Now, however, Giants had not yet discovered cannibalism in the human sense.

"They are what they are, but they have shown you respect. They are friends, to be welcomed with open arms, not shunned." And with that, Aslan disappeared.

"Ah, well," said Mister Tumnus after a few moments' silence. "He isn't a tame lion. But he is good."

"He's great," said Nia, her heart feeling lighter than it had in ages. _I'm quite sure he's taking care of Mum and Dad, too._

"I suppose," said Bree, "we'll have to wait until they summon us again."

"I don't think His Majesty and Fenrir will finish soon," said Mister Tumnus.

"But didn't just Fenrir agree to help Peter out?" asked Nia.

"Yes," the Faun replied thoughtfully. "But there are other processes and things that should be agreed upon and other whatnot."

"Things like what?"

"You know, strategies and other things…"

"Oh."

"While we're waiting," said Beaver, looking at her, "why don't you tell us a story?"

* * *

"What's happening?" Lucy murmured to herself as she strained to look through the keyhole. She was trying to look (and listen) at what was going on in her big brother's office. Everyone important was there: Peter, Susan, Edmund, General Oreius… Everyone except her.

It was no good, of course, to throw a tantrum. She was trying her best to act matured here. It wouldn't do if anyone caught her doing childish things, like peering through a keyhole.

She struggled not to giggle. Who cared?

"A third, then?" Peter was saying to someone. "We need more defenses here at the castle. I'm afraid our navy is not enough to stop the invaders. And if they overrun the castle, I am afraid we might be too late to stop them, even if we do win the battle."

Who in Aslan's name was he talking to?

"Just arrive as soon as you can. We'll hold them off as long as we can 'til you arrive. Thank you very much for your help."

Silence.

"Can I talk to the Lady Nia?" Peter was asking formally. Then, it dawned on Lucy that Peter was talking to someone from Ettinsmoor. "Well then, please tell her… tell her we're thankful." Then, he spoke to everyone else in the room. "Everybody go out, please."

"Just because he didn't' get the chance to talk to her," Edmund was grumbling. There was a bustling sound, and the door opened so suddenly, Lucy had no chance to hide.

"Your Majesty," said Oreius, bowing deeply. "Why do you not go to bed?"

At first, Lucy felt so small – Oreius must've been over seven feet!

"Oh, go to bed, Lu," said Susan irritably. "We have to wake up early tomorrow, and you'll stay small forever if you don't get eight hours' sleep."

"Well," Lucy felt her temper rise, and she put her hands on her hips, "I, too, am a Queen of Narnia. I should be here." Without further ado, she plopped herself down in one of the armchairs and refused to go away.

"Meeting's over, Lu," said Peter wearily. "Next time, we'll let you attend, I promise."

Lucy was a bit taken aback by the weariness in Peter's voice, and immediately regretted acting like a spoiled brat. "I'm sorry, Peter," she said, hugging her brother.

Somehow, that seemed to ease Peter. "That's alright," he replied, hugging her back.

* * *

"And the three queens took King Arthur at last to their abode in the Isle of Avalon," said Nia. "Some say he lives there still, drinking the sweetest wine from the Holy Grail, with Merlin his teacher. The people of Britain still awaits the day when he will rise to once again bring his people out of the shadow."

"The end," Toulouse intoned.

"The end," Nia agreed. She was feeling a bit tired. She'd just told them practically every Arthurian story she knew, from King Vortigern and the Dragons to the Sword in the Stone, to Guinevere's Betrayal, and to the Last Battle against Mordred.

And no one had summoned them yet.

"That's fascinating," Mister Tumnus said thoughtfully. "What a tragic story!"

"You are quite tired," Beaver said to Nia. "Why don't you sleep for a while and we'll wake you up when they're here."

Nia nodded and lay down on her bed, asleep and snoring softly within five minutes.

"She snores!" Beaver exclaimed softly, chuckling.

"It's a rather endearing trait," replied Mister Tumnus, smiling. "I have never heard any Daughter of Eve snore before."

"No wonder the High King's mad about her."

Toulouse chuckled to himself, and then looked at his Human. He knew Peter – he was humble, yet proud (and yes, someone like that does exist). The High King would never admit his feelings – at least not at first. Toulouse wondered how long Peter was going to last before...

It was going to be an interesting comeback at Cair Paravel.

* * *

King Cor of Archenland felt stiff all over from crouching for hours. And honestly, the leaves were itchy.

It was the Hermit's idea that the Archenlandish army should camouflage as trees upon their entry to Narnia. Pomona and the other nymphs, both Dryads and hamadryads, promised to conceal them from marauding Calormenes, but it was safer if the Army, too, tried their best to hide themselves.

Aravis and Nia would fall on their knees, laughing, if they could see Cor now. Indeed, Cor almost laughed at his reflection when he drank from a nearby stream. And then he remembered that the reflection was his, and the compulsion to guffaw disappeared.

At least they were only a few miles from where the Calormenes were. Hwin, the Horse he was riding, said they looked rather like a moving forest. Cor hoped the Calormenes wouldn't fall on their feet, laughing, once they saw the Archenlanders.

"Is it time?" he asked Thom, his second-in-command.

"Push forward another mile," said Thom. Cor raised his sword, signaling everyone to creep nearer to the Calormene's camp. Of course, they couldn't just walk properly. They had to creep (or crawl, which is even more unpleasant).

By the Lion, it was so hard, being a tree.

"It is understood, then?" asked Gawgon as Fenrir paced back and forth in his study.

"Yes," said Fenrir. "Although I am reluctant, I see your point. It is her right, after all. She is a Princess of Narnia, whatever else they all say. Although we may not be able to convince her…"

"Then, we will," said Gawgon. "We are short of manpower…"

"I shall handle her myself," said Fenrir after a few moments of silence. "Lupus?"

"Yes, sire?"

"Summon the Lady Nia."

"You may go," said Fenrir to Gawgon. Gawgon and the rest of the Harfang generals wanted her to… He could do nothing about it – his power in Ettinsmoor was not absolute now. He knew he should be by her side when the time came, but he couldn't. He promised Peter he would fight beside the main Narnian army. He hoped Nia would prove herself capable. If he had to teach her swordsmanship and archery himself (in the space of three days) he would. He hoped she would be able to forgive him for what he was about to make her do…

* * *

"Are you crazy?" Nia demanded. "I know I should have told you of my purpose right away, but if you're planning to have me killed, why not execute me right now? Why make your… your minions suffer? I'd only blunder about and lead them all to their deaths! You're stark, raving mad!"

She refused to accept… She refused to be the one. Toulouse woke her up for this?

"Because you are given the responsibility," Fenrir said in that infuriatingly gallant voice of his. Honestly, was he ever going to sound anything but?

"Well, I'm not one of your minions and I don't have to take part in this! I don't want to…"

"You will," said Fenrir. "Your High King ordered you to."

Nia laughed. "Oh, honestly, could you give another joke? I'm not sure I got that one."

"I am not joking." Fenrir's face told Nia exactly the same thing.

Nia stared at him in disbelief. "He wouldn't…"

"He did."

"I want to talk to him."

"You cannot. I apologize, Milady, but…"

"You want your people killed, and you want me to be your scapegoat if we fail. You want me to think Peter wanted this so I wouldn't blame you (you're pushing your luck). If I lose, Cair Paravel would be taken, and Peter and Edmund would blame me for the tragedy, not you." Nia could hardly believe her voice could be that cold. She was boiling with anger inside. "I can believe that of you." It was not easy to forget what he did to her Mum, too. And it was so like Fenrir to lay the blame on Peter. Nia knew the High King would never do that to her – he wouldn't even think of it! She turned around and prepared to walk out of the room, when Fenrir caught her elbow.

"I will lead your special force, alright!" Nia said angrily. "Happy?"

"I will teach you proper archery and fencing tomorrow," said Fenrir, his voice still in that irritating tone, "General Narnia."

"I hate you," Nia managed to say, before she ran out of Fenrir's office, anger pulsing through her veins. _I hate you._

**END OF CHAPTER**

* * *

**AN: **_I know many of you are impatient to see some Nia/Peter scenes. There are lots of them in the next few chapters, so don't worry. But as I've said, this is more action/adventure than actual romance, so I'm focusing more on Nia's adventures. Besides, she's only fourteen. All I can say is… Don't fret, she'll grow up._


	21. Task Force Castle

**CHAPTER 21: _Task Force Castle_**

D-day.

Several decades after the Great War (that is World War 2), when people say D-day, they often refer to the day when U.S. forces dropped the A-bomb on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. Of course, that happened years after Nia's adventures in that magical chest. And so, D-day meant quite differently to Nia. For her, D-day meant Disagreeable Day, or Defeat Day, or even Death Day…

But Nia's D-day was today. Now.

It was still dark when Fenrir and Gawgon assembled the entire forces of Harfang outside her gates As she watched Fenrir and Gawgon depart with their (admittedly VERY large) army, she wanted to throw up. Now, an hour later, she looked at the teeny fraction that was left to her, and felt like committing suicide.

They about a thousand hundred or so, consisting of dozens of disgruntled dwarves and some giants who weren't large enough to fight with the main army, and hundreds of Snow Tigers (which resemble the Bengali ones here in our world) and inky-black panthers and some minotaurs…

Nia was thankful Reginbrik and his crew was there. They helped ease the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Reginbrik smiled at her from his position at the head of the column. Toulouse pawed the ground beside her nervously, Misters Tumnus and Beaver both shifted their feet (and flippers) uneasily, and Bree whinnied as a marsh boggle strapped on his saddle. "Task Force Castle" (or "TFC", as Toulouse and Nia called them) had little or no armor on them. The ironsmiths in Harfang produced enough for the main army, but little could be spared for Nia and her fellows – she refused to think of them as her troops – in TFC. They had to make do with the few surpluses that had been made. Reginbrik and his crew managed to replace all the Harfang arrows, helmets, and axes with special, zinc-coated Aslium ones without anyone noticing. Nia herself wore no armor except a breastplate made of Aslium specially designed for her. Her sword hung on her side, and her archery set was slung over her shoulders. She wished her three-day training would be enough to keep her alive. She was a good fencer and a decent archer back in America, but that was quite different. The archery targets there didn't move, and the swords there were flimsy rapiers with rounded points.

"Where are those Vultures, anyway?" Toulouse grumbled at her feet. Mister Tumnus gave a nervous twitch, and Bree shuddered.

Oh, yes, the Vultures. They acted as lookouts and flew ahead to Cair Paravel and out into the sea to get a glimpse of their enemies. They were nice, really, except that they made everyone else uneasy. Where Vultures were, death was sure to follow. Nia wanted to drive the Calormenes away, not turn Cair Paravel into a slaughterhouse.

A black speck suddenly appeared in the sky, growing larger and larger, until Nia saw the silhouette of a large bird. The She-vulture perched on a dead tree to Nia's right and waited for her to say something, eyeing her intently with those beady eyes.

Nia fought the urge to swallow and said, "Tell us what you've seen, Olga."

"My kin and I have seen fifty ships under the banner of Tash, Milady," the Vulture replied in a rasping voice. "With approximately fifty men each."

"How many are the Defenders in the Castle?"

"About a thousand, Milady."

Nia bit back the urge to tell Olga to stop calling her Milady, but there was no use. She would keep on using that, anyway. The funny thing was, the Harfangers Fenrir put under her command never showed sarcasm to their young commander. Nia expected veiled criticisms from them, but so far, they respected her. If they weren't happy with their assignments, they didn't show it. Many wore perpetually disgruntled looks, to be sure, but they were that way before they were assigned to TFC.

Nia went back to the problem at hand. There would be two thousand Defenders once Nia combined her forces with the actual castle defenders, but they were still outnumbered by a good five hundred men, all of them extremely well trained in the arts of war. She'd seen the Calormene camp in Narnia, so she had some idea of what the battle, both the main one and the "side battle" would be like. It wasn't a pretty picture.

"Have you seen any non-Calormene ships coming, Olga?"

"Yes. About ten ships bearing the flag of a Bear."

"That's Archenland!" Mister Tumnus whispered.

"Yes, but how many men each?" asked Nia.

"There are about twenty men per ship, Milady."

Two thousand four hundred in all, then. But those men would come from the sea, and the only thing they would be able to do is fire arrows from their ships. Nia suggested they call the kraken and sink all Calormene ships, but Mister Tumnus said that the kraken live in the wide oceans in the east, far away from land. The merpeople were included in the one thousand Castle Defenders and…

"Who is in command of the Castle Defenders, then?"

"Queen Susan, Milady."

"Olga," Nia paused for a while, thinking of what she ought to do. "Tell your fellow Vultures to assist the Archenlanders in any way possible, and defer to the Lady Aravis – she is dark-skinned but she's one of us. Thank you, that will be all."

The She-vulture spread her great wings and flew away. Nia's troops stared balefully at her.

"Say something," Bree neighed softly in her ear. "They're expecting you to."

"Many of you probably don't know me," she said loudly, taking a deep breath. "I'm Nia Evenshire – call me Nia. I know I'm (very) young and inexperienced. You probably know a lot more about what we're going to do, than I do." At this, she gave a rather weak sort of laugh. TFC stared blankly at her. "I know," she plowed on, "some of us will probably die this day, and I know it would be very idealistic of me to think we're all going to survive." Still more stares. "In a few moments, we're going to ride to Cair Paravel. You aren't exactly excited to meet the Beasts there, aren't you? But we have to fight our very best, to maintain our freedom. Do you know what the Calormenes do to Talking Beasts and Giants and Dwarves?" Honestly, Fenrir should've given her a happier lot. This was getting ridiculous! "They capture people like you and put them on cages for them to look and laugh at, and they enslave people like me. Now, we don't want that, do we?" More silence. She gave up. These people were hopeless!

"No we don't!" Reginbrik said at the top of his voice (which was really tiny and high-pitched).

"No we don't!" chorused his crew.

"Down with the Calormenes!" one of the giants roared.

"Down with the invaders!" several of the TFC soldiers chanted in unison.

"For Narnia and for Aslan!" others shouted. Nia soon realized it was the traditional Narnian battle chant, and the leader of the army yelled it before they went to battle. But then, she didn't feel like a leader. Fenrir put her up to this. And the idiot had the gall to say Peter ordered it so! Peter would never do that! Nia wasn't fooled for a moment. He was just fibbing, probably to appease her.

"Let's go!" she said, and waited as the foot soldiers (which included the dwarves, boggles, Mister Tumnus, and Beaver) mounted the Panthers and Snow Tigers. Then, she mounted Bree, faced to the southeast, where Cair Paravel lay, and shouted, "For Narnia and for Aslan!"

"For Narnia and for Aslan," the army chorused back with surprising gusto. They didn't want to be enslaved – they were free Narnians, after all. And they travelled as fast as they could, the giants bringing up the rear, to Cair Paravel.

* * *

Cor's so-called navy was only a few hours away from Cair Paravel, and Aravis still had no clue as to what they were supposed to be doing, except fire arrows and throw stones. The merpeople would help, to be sure, but they were too… few. They had no communication with anyone for more than five days now, and she was growing increasingly nervous with every passing minute. She hoped the early morning fog hid them from the Calormenes' view.

"Lass," said Alf, looking up the early morning sky, "look up."

Aravis did, and saw rings of large birds, about fifty or so, circling the sky above _King Lune. _"Those aren't eagles, aren't they?"

"No, m'lady. They're Vultures – scavengers," Alf said, still looking up. They thrive on battlefields, where it is sure many people would die. They just watch, and then eat the slain once the battle's over. Their presence is not a very good omen."

A Vulture flew from the north to the circle, and the entire flock paused from their flight.

"They're talking!" Aravis exclaimed in surprise.

"Aye, they're Talking Beasts. No one knows where they nest."

The very same bird who had approached the flock now descended to the ship, and landed neatly on the railings. Several of the sailors gave a start.

"Worry not," said the Vulture, taking Aravis in with beady eyes. "I presume you are the Lady Aravis? Good. We are from Harfang. The Lady Nia ordered us to help you in your part in the battle. We are under your command."

Wait… Nia _ordered _the Vultures to defer to her? So Nia already held a certain degree of power… She must've convinced the people of Ettinsmoor to fight for Narnia! Aravis bit back the urge to laugh semi-hysterically.

"We're still a few hours away from Cair Paravel," she said calmly. "Summon your chieftains – or whatever you call them. We have a lot to discuss."

* * *

"You're sweating like a pig," Edmund told Peter as he rode to his position beside his elder brother at the head of the army.

"Of course he is," said his Horse, Philip. "He's wearing armor."

"I'm not sweating."

"You just wore yours. He's been wearing it for hours."

"We may lose today, Ed," Peter said quietly. "They're too many."

Sure enough, the plains several meters away from them looked like an ocean of orange, with orange banners dotting here and there, and the occasional black…

"Of course we won't!" Philip neighed, sounding like someone who wanted to convince himself. Peter wished his Unicorn, Leif, could talk. But of course, Unicorns couldn't talk. The only un-Horsey thing they could do was healing wounds by crying over them. Oh, and goring their enemies with their horns, too.

"Fenrir and the other Harfangers agreed to fight for us," said Edmund with forced cheerfulness. "These Calormenes are as good as dead. So relax, Pete. The battle's ours."

"I hope so," said Peter, looking at the ocean of orange in front of him. "I hope so."

* * *

"It will be as agreed, Fenrir," whispered Gawgon as the Harfang army stopped just out of sight from the Narnian army, concealed by the forest. "Our army shall be divided into two, and we shall hide in the trees on the flanks of the enemy, and, together with the the High King, King Edmund, and King Cor of Archenland, we shall crush the Calormenes."

"Position our soldiers, Gawgon," said Fenrir. "Lupus and I shall ride into battle behind Aslan's banner."

Gawgon and the rest of the army then went to their positions farther afield. The battlefield was surrounded on all sides by forests, which was lucky since it avoided premature detection.

"Sir," said Lupus rather hesitantly as Fenrir made his horse (not a Talking Beast, mind you) face south, in the direction of the Narnian army, "what will you say to King Peter?"

"About what?"

"About the Lady Nia, sir. He doesn't know about her leading the Task Force Castle."

Fenrir felt a stab of guilt at this. He had to protect his power, and he did, if by rather dubious means. He made Nia the commander of Task Force Castle against his better judgement because that was what Gawgon and the others wanted. Nia was so inexperienced, everyone was sure she would die almost at the onset of the battle. Fenrir remembered the High King's face when he asked about Nia. Peter was in love with her; it was so obvious. Peter knew nothing of what Nia was about to do; Fenrir made sure of that by keeping the Mirror. And he'd told Nia that Peter wanted her to command so she wouldn't blame him completely.

Not that he'd fooled her. He should've known Nia completely trusted Peter. He'd never seen anyone bestow another with such level of trust.

Oh, wait, he had. Queen Swanwhite and King Thorn trusted him not just with their lives, but also with their kingdom. But what did he do?

Fenrir shook his head. It was time to stop killing himself over that affair. "We tell him the truth." And with that, he heeled horse and trotted towards Kings Peter and Edmund.

* * *

"Yes, we get it," said Cor, shaking hands (or paws, rather) with one of the Wolves. "We'll wait for King Peter to shout his battle cry, then. Yes, thank you very much." Harfang's army sent two Wolves to the Archenlanders to inform them of the final battle plan. Cor liked the idea of trapping the infernal Calormenes to their deaths. He could still hear his family's screams as the warriors of Tisroc brought them to their deaths…

Oh, yes, vengeance was – and still is - a very good motivator. He would avenge his father and mother, and his twin, Corin…

"A good warrior is a calm warrior, sire," Sir Thom whispered in his ear as they went back to their positions, crouching in the forest.

"What?"

"I saw the expression on your face – don't take me wrong, I understand why. Don't let your emotions rule you. An angry warrior is a reckless warrior, sire. We can't afford to lose you. Take a deep breath… Relax."

Cor nodded and took a deep breath. "Thanks, Thom."

He ordered the entire army to stand up and start shaking their arms and legs. Anytime now they would be called into battle… Anytime now… Cor shook his legs gingerly and winced.

"Cor, we must hurry up!" Hwin said urgently. "The Narnians will give their battle cry anytime now." As if he didn't know that. He shook his arms and legs more vigorously, jumped up and down (the rest of the army imitated him) and mounted Hwin.

Far off, they all heard someone yell ("Probably King Peter," whispered Hwin) "FOR NARNIA AND FOR ASLAN!!!"

Cor drew his sword, pointed it northward, and he and his army galloped into the battle.

* * *

When Task Force Castle arrived at the scene, the battle had already started. Nia could see that some of the Calormene soldiers were already on the beach. The Defenders were putting up a good fight, though. Arrows tipped with fire were shooting out of the castle itself. Some of the giants said that the Archenlanders were systematically sinking enemy ships.

But the enemy was simply too many. The Defenders were slowly retreating.

"Let's go!" Nia yelled to TFC, and they ran into the fray.

* * *

Peter swung his sword left and right, cleaving a path of blood and hewn body parts. Adrenaline coursed through his body as he parried blows from the enemy. He'd lost sight of Edmund and Fenrir the moment the battle started, but that didn't matter. He knew Edmund was an excellent swordsman (I – the narrator – am using the term in a broader sense here; Edmund was only 13), and Fenrir had a reputation as a ruthless warrior. Doubtless they would both survive. Peter felt a surge of anger. _Fenrir… _The accursed man had put Nia in danger! He beheaded a Calormene soldier with a single blow, spraying blood on his face.

The Archenlanders hemmed in the Calormenes from the South, and the Harfangers under the giant King Gawgon trapped them from the sides. The enemy was trapped, and they knew it, so they struck back with the ferocity of a man with nothing to lose.

What… was that Cor? Peter saw the Archenlander king dueling with a large Calormene on foot. And then a mare kicked the Calormene from behind, killing him instantly. From the corner of his eye, he saw a blade swinging in his direction and hastily blocked it.

He hoped Nia was doing fine. If Nia were killed in battle, he would personally kill Fenrir, and Gawgon, and all the others who put her there. By the Lion, he would!

* * *

Nia had to give the Harfangers credit; they were more than a match for the Calormenes. The dwarves struck the enemies' feet and the Panthers and Snow Tigers attacked with unequaled ferocity. The giants plucked several Calormenes at a time, swung them around, and threw them into the far seas. As the combined forces of TFC and the castle defenders forced them to pull back, the retreating Calormenes found all their ships sunk by the Archenland navy and a large flock of Vultures. Nia's arm was more than tired from using that infernal sword! She was lucky it was lighter than ordinary steel, but she'd been using it for what seemed like ages! She silently thanked Fenrir for the crash course in swordsmanship. It was the only reason she was still alive.

Suddenly, a tall, dark, and very scary Calormene with a scar running from his temple down to his left ear loomed in front of her.

"Why my pretty," he said menacingly, "why are you here? This is no place for little girls."

"I'm here," she replied, sounding a lot braver than she felt. "Nothing you can do about that."

"Well then," shrugged the Calormene. "I'm very sorry to be cutting your life short, but a man has to do what he has to do." And with that, he swung his scimitar towards here. He was quick, and there was a lot of energy with that blow. Nia blocked him just in time. As they continued to duel, Nia felt her energy draining. The man was unrelenting! He swung; she rolled on the ground to avoid it.

Nia was too tired to fight decently. She just kept rolling and blocking. Her head was pounding and her breathing grew ragged.

A black blur appeared out of nowhere and bit at the Calormene's throat. And then, a sword suddenly pierced through his chest. The Calormene emitted a gurgling sound and then collapsed to reveal Aravis, looking extremely vicious with a bloody sword in her hand, and Toulouse, sitting on her shoulder.

"We won, Nia!" Toulouse was shouting. "We won!"

"We've won" Aravis piped in excitedly.

She raised her head a bit and saw Narnians jumping up and down, often tripping on Calormene corpses; she saw Tigers and Snow Tigers high-fiving each other. She saw Mister Tumnus and Beaver running to her, together with Susan and Lucy.

"We've won," she said weakly. "We've won…"

And with that, everything went black.

**END OF CHAPTER**


	22. The Reunion and What Happened After

**CHAPTER 22: _The Reunion and What Happened After_**

_"I wanna go home, Mummy!" Nia said stubbornly, stamping her foot, not caring how childish she was._

_"I'm sorry, Nee, but it's too dangerous," her mother replied absently as she packed her clothes in a bag. _

_"But not for you."_

_"No," Mummy said. "Not for me. Don't worry, Narnia. I'll see you again in a month or so." She kissed Nia's forehead. "I love you." With that she close her suitcase and left the room._

_The girl watched her mother leave. "Not if I can do anything about it."_

* * *

Nia tossed and turned in her sleep.

* * *

_She would never forget the look on her mother's face as the deckhand pulled her from where she was hiding in the car compartment and into the Duchess's cabin on the ship. It was a mixture of anger and shock… and a bit of pleasure._

_"Narnia Evenshire what on earth are you doing here?" Mummy thundered as soon as the deckhand left._

_"I'm going home," Nia replied, putting her hands on her hips. "And there's nothing you can do about it."_

_"No," her mother said, a faint smile playing on her lips. "There's nothing I can do about it no, is there? Just promise me you'll stay in Kent, Nee?"_

_"Alright, I will," she replied. Then, a look of excitement replaced the stubborn expression on her face. "I'm gonna see Daddy soon!"_

_"Yes, you're gonna see Daddy." Mummy laughed and held her hands. "Just be a good girl, okay?"_

_Nia found herself smiling back. "Okay."_

* * *

"Poor girl… She's probably over-fatigued," said Mrs. Beaver to Susan. They, and Lucy and the Lady Aravis, were sitting in Nia's bedchamber, sipping tea. In fact, it was already dinnertime, and Nia was still… well… unconscious.

"'Course she is," said Toulouse, who was curled up in Aravis's lap. "Fenrir trained her on swordsmanship and archery during the past three days. And did she make use of the nights for sleeping?"

"Um, no?" Lucy ventured rather meekly. She was in awe of Toulouse. She could remember when she cradled him in her lap and he mewed like the cute kitty she thought he was. Oh well… Things change.

"Well, she did."

"Oh."

"Except last night, anyway, and last night was very important mind you. It was battle's eve, and she had to spend it pacing back and forth in her bedchamber! Who in Aslan's name doesn't sleep the night before the battle? Who?"

"Peter doesn't sleep before battles."

"Well, he's High King of Narnia. What do you expect? It's his country he'll lose if he loses the battle. But Nia's not a Queen. It's different for her."

Frankly, Lucy couldn't tell the difference. After all, Narnia was also Nia's country, wasn't it? Why shouldn't she be stressed the night before a battle?

* * *

_There was a storm that night – a night Nia would never, ever, ever forget. She was being a good girl, of course. Her mum and dad were in London to attend a Parliament meeting concerning the Blitz._

_"We'll say hello to the Pevensies for you," her mother had said before she left. "Maybe we'll even have the them here for the summer! I expect your Aunt Lenny'll want the children out of London."_

_Her parents left her in the house together with her beloved Uncle Nicodemus and her cousin William, Uncle Nicky's eldest son (who was two years older than her). She liked cousin Will. He'd stayed in his family estate in Scotland for the past four years, so Nia didn't get to see much of him, but he was very nice._

_That night, the power was out. Nia and Will were playing chess by candlelight, and Uncle Nicky was smoking his pipe while watching the game intently. Nia was more than competent in chess, but Will was a grandmaster. _

_"Prepare to die, Nee," Will was saying ominously. "Check."_

_And then the phone rang._

_"I'll get it," said Uncle Nicky. "Evenshire Estate, how may I help you?"_

_The person on the other end of the line was saying something, and Uncle Nicky's face turned a rather nasty white. "I – I'll tell her," he said. "Yes, yes. I'll come to London as soon as the storm's over. What do you mean there's nothing to bur…? I see. I'll get them anyway. I'll see you tomorrow." With that he replaced the phone on the receiver and turned to Nia._

_"Are you alright, Uncle Nicky?" she asked. Indeed, her uncle looked as if he might throw up._

_"Nee," he said in a rather strangled voice, and then collected himself. He took her hands and said, "You know that the nasty Germans are bombing London, right?"_

_Nia nodded. Strange… Uncle Nicky knew that Nia read newspapers everyday and was, therefore, up-to-date with current events._

_"Your Mum and Dad were on their way to Finchley when… when…"_

_"When what, Dad?" asked Will._

_"A bomb dropped on the road they were taking… Lots of people died. They're one of the casualties." _

_Nia stared at him in shock. Her mouth felt dry. She didn't know what to say._

_"Nia, I'm sorry," Will was saying, putting a hand on her shoulder. "I'm so, so sorry." Tears fell from Uncle Nicky's eyes._

_She would never see her mother's smiles again. She would never hear her tell stories of Aslan again. She would never smell her dad's peppermint scent again… Neither Will's apologies nor Uncle Nicky's tears could bring back what she'd lost._

_She screamed._

* * *

Nia woke up screaming.

"Nee!" she could hear someone saying. She abruptly stopped and opened her eyes. Susan was sitting on the bed, looking at her anxiously. So were a She-beaver, Lucy, Toulouse, and…

What was Aravis doing here?

Then she remembered the giant Calormene, and the sword piercing his body, Aravis standing behind…

"Are you alright?" asked Aravis, her eyes wide with concern. "You were screaming."

"Bad dream," she said, shaking her head. "Where am I?"

"You're in Cair Paravel, silly," said Susan. "You were brought here immediately after we saw you faint. Don't worry – Peter's not here."

"Oh, it was magnificent!" the She-beaver gushed. "I'm Brigitta Beaver, by the way. You may call me Mrs. Beaver."

"You're Mr. Beaver's wife!"

"Unfortunately," Mrs. Beaver sighed. "But you fought so ferociously in the battlefield. You and… well… everyone. Peter sent one of the Griffins ahead to say that they'd driven the Calormenes out of the Northern lands. They're returning immediately with the Harfangers and King Cor and his highest officials."

"How long was I out?"

"Well, the battle was yesterday morning, and now's lunchtime," said Lucy. "So you're out for about… er…" Her little face was scrunched up in concentration.

"It's alright," Nia laughed.

"Mister Tumnus and TFC are anxious to know if you're fine, Nee," said Toulouse. "I think you've won TFC's loyalty."

Susan nodded. "You may have accidentally created your personal army. I've never seen a Harfanger show that much concern."

"You've never seen a Harfanger before, Su."

"But still, they seem to be the exact opposite of what we thought of them. We thought they're fierce, ruthless creatures who thrive in bloodlust. But they aren't… They're brave and proud and loyal… They're Narnians to the bone, even if they're not so pleasant at first sight."

Nia nodded, touched. She had no idea she could actually win the TFC's loyalty. She would see them later. But for now…

"Let's not talk of these things for now," she said. Her stomach growled. By the Lion, was she hungry! "I'm starving!"

* * *

"General Nia," a Snow Tigress said as Nia descended down the beach that afternoon. The entire TFC was assembled there, plus Mister Tumnus and Beaver. Nia nodded and smiled at the Snow Tigress, and faced the her entire army.

"Can every one hear me?" she said at the top of her voice. "Even you there, Sir Giants? Yes? Well, then…" Toulouse told her that a good general was not a haughty general, but a friendly one.

"We are very glad to see you once again, General," said Reginbrik. "We've been worried something bad really happened when we saw you fall" Everyone growled/yelled/murmured their assent.

"We couldn't come to help you right away because of them ferocious Calormenes," one of the Panthers piped up."

"Yeah."

"We're really sorry, General."

Nia held up a hand. "I'm alright. I came here to say thank you. You are good warriors, each and every single one of you. If it weren't for you people, Narnia would've been under Calormen right now. I can't thank you enough."

"Well," said one of the Giants, "we've already talked about this while you were asleep, Milady. And we'd like to… we'd like to…"

"We'd like to be your personal army," finished another Panther. "We like you, see. You may be inexperienced, but then, that's cured by time. You have a good heart, and you're really brave, you know. You put up a good fight even though this was your first battle. We can see you have a good head on your shoulders. And…"

"Please, Milady… We'd really like to be your Task Force, not anyone else's," said Reginbrik.

Nia was more than taken aback and more than touched at their request. "You honor me by being my army, Task Force Castle." There was a very irritating lump in her throat. "In Aslan's name, I will do my best and lead you well. But please…"

"What is it, Milady?"

"When we're not at war, please call me Nia. General makes me feel like a man and Milady makes me feel like an old biddy."

Everyone laughed. Then, suddenly, they heard the blaring of trumpets from the western side of the castle.

"It's the High King!" Mister Tumnus whispered excitedly. "King Peter's come back!"

* * *

Everyone was already in the entrance hall when Nia, Toulouse, Beaver and Mister Tumnus arrived. The crowd was separated into two by a central aisle, and on that aisle stood Susan and Lucy.

"What's happening?" Nia asked Aravis, who'd slipped beside them.

"It's the High King and King Edmund," she whispered as they looked towards the door.

"What's taking them so long?"

"Well, they have to wait a while to make sure everyone's here, haven't they?" said Toulouse. "You've loads to learn in the arts of dramatic entrances, General."

"I'll tell you later," Nia said quickly, seeing Aravis's puzzled face.

The doors opened to reveal Oreius. Nia'd quite forgotten how… huge he was.

"Your Majesties," he said, bowing deeply (or at least, as deeply as a Centaur can) to Susan and Lucy. Then, he stepped aside and Peter, Edmund, Cor, Gawgon and Fenrir entered.

"They're quite a sight, aren't they?" Aravis murmured half-dreamily, and Nia knew she had one particular king in mind. And he was definitely not Narnian.

"Yes, they are," she agreed. Peter looked very regal and manly in his armor. If her American cousins were here, they'd be salivating over him right now. She couldn't believe she thought Fenrir better looking than Peter. The way he walked to his sisters and kissed them on the forehead and then stood aside to permit Edmund to do the same…the way he introduced Cor and the two Harfangers… The expression on his face was grave, and it set of his kingly aura.

It was kind of hard not to sigh at the sight of Peter Pevensie.

Oh, Lord. It couldn't be… No, of course not. This was just a schoolgirl crush, that's all. Nothing more. Right?

Oh dear.

Somebody up there must be playing a sick game at her expense.

Her mind flashed back to the times when she and Peter played hide and seek – with the other Pevensies, of course – and how Peter would always make it easy for her to find him whenever she was It, and how Peter would always avoid the places where she was hiding like the plague whenever _he _was It. Peter's actions had been annoying at the time. She found them endearing now. And there were others… How Peter comforted her when she was crying (after her mother told her she had too leave for America)… How obviously worried he was when she'd slipped away from Cair Paravel what seemed like ages ago…

There was no doubt about it. Nope. Absolutely no doubt at all. The fact was she was falling in love with Peter Pevensie – with the boy he was and the man he became. There was nothing to be done.

"Nia!" It was Edmund. He waved enthusiastically at her; he was growing up very nicely indeed, that boy. Then, he said, "Peter, look, it's Nia!"

And then Peter looked at her. Nia felt chills run down her spine, and forced herself to wave with the same enthusiasm as Edmund.

And then the next thing she knew, Peter covered the distance between him and her, and – with everyone watching rather avidly, hugged her tight.

* * *

Peter could hardly believe it. _She _was here, in Cair Paravel. She was safe. She'd survived the battle.

He had been worried sick when Fenrir told him of what he (Fenrir, that is) ordered Nia to do. Peter vowed to himself that he would make Fenrir and Gawgon pay a terrible price if something bad happened to her. Throughout the battle, he was practically frenzied with the idea that a Calormene would be hurting Nia.

When Edmund called out her name, and she waved back, she seemed like a mirage, some sort of hallucination brought about by the shock of an extremely fierce battle. There she was, strange yet familiar, queer yet beautiful, waving happily at them as if she'd been in Cair Paravel all along… As if they'd spent the last handful of years together.

And now he was holding her in his arms. After weeks of conversing via a mirror, he was finally holding her.

Wait…

He immediately let go of her and held her by the shoulders. "I – We missed you, Nee. What were you thinking, haring off like that?"

"Oh you know," said Nia rather nonchalantly. "Temporary lapse of sanity."

"Temporary lapse of sanity," Edmund echoed. "Oh, get out of the way, Pete. I want to hug Nia too."

* * *

The announcement came a week after the battle. Peter summoned Nia to his office, and when she arrived there, she saw the four Kings and Queens, and Fenrir, sitting there. It was quite surprising to see Fenrir there. Peter had been treating him rather coldly ever since the battle.

"Please have a seat, Nee," said Susan.

"Thanks."

"Actually, we've been thinking over this for quite some time now," said Edmund. "And we think you've earned this. The Harfangers agree, and your… Task Force," he wasn't used to the idea of Nia commanding an army yet, "is quite excited about the idea."

"What idea?"

"Well, you're one by blood, actually," Edmund continued as if she hadn't spoken. "We're only doing this as a formality, and Aslan gave us his blessing. We're just making everything legal."

"You're making _what _legal?" Nia had no idea, really.

"In a week," said Peter, "you shall be officially made a Princess of Narnia."

"Oh, honestly," said Nia, feeling rather dumbfounded. "You needn't do that. I'm fine with not being a princess."

"But you have proved your worth in the battle, Milady, and countless other things besides," said Fenrir.

"You helped uncover a spy in our court," said Susan, ticking off her fingers. "You helped recover Archenland. You helped save Narnia from the Calormenes. And if it weren't for you, Nia, we would've been plunged into civil war!"

"We've a lot to be thankful for your being here," said Edmund.

"But…" she started to object. Peter held up a hand to silence her.

"Aslan gave us the go signal," he said, smiling genially at her. By the Lion, she fervently hoped she wasn't blushing! "Look your best, Nee. You've got to look stunning for your coronation."

* * *

She did look stunning that night. The moon outside seemed to pay homage to her as she walked down the aisle in the throne room. She was wearing a green gown slashed with gold, holding a single white rose in her hand. Peter and his siblings were sitting on their thrones, anticipating the moment she reached the end of the aisle. There was a throne waiting for her, two steps below the Pevensies' thrones, slightly smaller but no less grand than theirs.

The air of excitement was palpable. Everyone, from the miniscule ankleslicers to the most giant of the giants, and everyone in between, were there. Fenrir and the Harfangers were there, as well as King Cor and the Lady Aravis. Peter liked the former Tarkheena. She was nice, if a bit proud, and so obviously in love with her King. Everyone but Cor saw it. It would be nice to see her become Queen of Archenland…

Which made him think how nice it would be to make Nia Queen of Narnia.

Task Force Castle, Nia's special army, had their special area near the throne. Many of them, even the most ruthless Panther, were shedding tears of joy. How odd…

Nia stopped when she reached the bottom of the steps leading up to the thrones, and knelt (Susan told her that; in fact, Susan tutored her in every aspect of the ceremony so thoroughly, she could've opened a school for coronation etiquette).

"I never thought I'd see this moment," someone suddenly said in a rather choked voice. Everyone looked around and saw Toulouse at the head of TFC, shedding his own tears. "I'm so proud of you Nee."

"Bring in the crown," said Edmund in his most kingly voice (which wasn't really very kingly; his voice broke at the wrong moments, sending the entire throne room tittering). Mister Tumnus entered the room from a side entrance, a red pillow flat on his hands. On the pillow rested a crown of a strangely iridescent metal, a simple circlet with a single, iridescent rose.

* * *

Nia knew, the moment she saw the crown, that Reginbrik made it. Why, who else would make a crown of Aslium, let alone such a beautiful crown? She cast a grateful look at Rginbrik and he crew, who saluted back. She felt so jittery! In a few moments, she would be Princess Narnia of… well… Narnia. Who wouldn't be nervous?

Her knees hurt. What was taking them so long? Hmm… Peter looked incredible in his tunic and breeches. _Oh stop it, Nia._

Lucy stood up from her throne, picked up the crown, and placed it neatly on Nia's head, with the rose resting on her forehead. Wearing the crown felt wonderful! She'd never seen such a beautiful crown!

"It suits you," Lucy whispered and returned to her throne.

"In the name of Aslan, I command you to rise, Narnia Evenshire," said Peter in grave tones, "Princess of Narnia."

As he said those words, Nia could've sworn her parents – yes, even her rarely-seen father – were standing behind the Pevensies, smiling encouragingly at her.

* * *

That, of course, is not the end of the story. Nia had a lot of adventures after her coronation. Three months after that event, King Peter sent her to the Lone Islands together with TFC to stop the flourishing slave trade. And then, he sent her to Tashbaad, the capital of Calormen, to initiate peace talks between the two countries. Of course, the peace talks went on for some time, what with the Calormenes being… well, Calormenes. For the next seven years, she spent much of her time traveling between Cair Paravel (her "base"), Harfang (here Peter sent her at times to because many people there actually liked her and would like to see her from time-to-time), Anvard, and Tashbaad. From time to time, she was also sent to Terebinthia and the Lone Islands. Toulouse and Bree always joined her in her travels, and more often than not, Mister Tumnus came along, too.

Gawgon became the Governor of Harfang, serving under the Pevensies and Fenrir Lightningpaw was assigned to be the Duke of Terebinthia. Both were extremelyl satisfied with the posts they were given, and proved to be just rulers.

All in all, everyone was pretty much happy with the way things were going. Nia was beginning to feel quite contented with her semi-rhythmical travels. As much as she loved Cair Paravel and those who dwelled there, she was much happier traveling. She could never bring herself to tell Peter what she felt for him, and she felt stabs of jealousy whenever the beautiful young ladies of the Lonely Isles flirted and danced with him.

Of course, she didn't know that Peter felt the same, and, like her, he could never bring himself to tell her what he felt. He also felt jealous whenever Fenrir or some other young man from Archenland asked her to dance during the Winter Ball.

Of course, she didn't know that.

Things would've remained that way if a rather curious event had not happened, but it did, precisely seven years and three months after Nia's coronation.

It all started when Cor, right out of the blue, proposed to Aravis.

**END OF CHAPTER**


	23. Of Proposals and Weddings

**CHAPTER 23: _Of Proposals and Weddings_**

Peter (the High King) was, once again, holding the annual Winter Ball at Cair Paravel. The halls were festooned with holly and mistletoe, and the entrance hall was artistically littered with pine needles. The ballroom was nothing short of amazing, what with the icicle-like formations that hung from the ceiling, and the garlands and some pieces of cloth shaped into stars. There were also balls of velvet in all sizes that hung around the area.

By this time, Narnia (the country) was already well into her Golden Age. Her rulers could already afford such luxurious trappings.

And Nia was already wishing she'd gone to bed instead of here. Honestly, it was more than a bit tedious to watch all these people dancing. Oh, she'd been awestruck when the Pevensies started the Winter Ball five years ago, but she eventually grew tired of all the dancing. The Princess of Narnia was definitely not a party person. She danced with some people, of course – it was part of the job description – and she did laugh and gossip with some court ladies, but she was tired of dancing for almost two hours straight. She'd excused herself from her last partner (Edmund) and wandered by the food table.

The food table contained piles and piles of chicken and turkey and venison (all dumb animals, of course) and gravy, and chocolates of various shapes and sizes (there were choco-balls the size of a basketball, chocolates the shape of pine trees…).

She tried to tell herself she might just as well enjoy this, since she was leaving for Tashbaad in a few days. That didn't work.

She grabbed one of those pine-tree-shaped chocolates from the food table, took a bite, and surveyed the scene. Practically everyone was dancing, except for Father Christmas, who was engaged in an extremely excruciating chess match with Fenrir, Bree and Hwin (who were conversing with their fellow Horses), and Toulouse, who was also eating and talking with the rest of the Cats. She saw Aravis dancing with a young Archenlander. Susan was dancing with Edmund, and Lucy was waltzing with Mister Tumnus. The TFC were swaying and sashaying with dryads and naiads... Now, where on earth was Cor?

Her stomach gave an unpleasant lurch as Peter danced past her with Tabitha, the daughter of a Terebinthian lord. Ooh, she'd like to hit Tabitha; stunning, seductive, nineteen-year-old Tabitha with her wine-red her.

Peter was even more handsome than usual. At twenty-three, he was a very striking young man, full of vitality. He was a wise King (though Edmund was more judicious) and he ruled well. He was now dressed in a handsome green tunic and tan breeches. His crown glistened on his head as the lights it. His azure eyes looked mesmerized as he looked at his dance partner. Then, he caught Nia's eye and gave a rather cheerful wave before twirling Tabitha around.

Among Peter's many admirers, it was Tabitha who irritated Nia the most. Oh, the Terebinthian lady wasn't a spoiled, dumb woman. In fact she was the opposite. She was cultured, yet down-to-earth. She was witty and she knew the right things to say for any occasion. She was kind and compassionate and… Suffice to say, it was her good qualities that irritated Nia. Her charm, her looks, her personality… Everything. But what annoyed Nia the most was the fact that Peter noticed these things.

* * *

"Tabitha is very beautiful, don't you think?" Nia recalled Peter saying the night he first met Tabitha, which was about six months ago, in Tabitha's father's manor.

"Huh?"

"I mean, she's not just gorgeous. She's smart, she's kindhearted…" Peter had sighed.

"She has everything you want in a girl," Nia had said, smiling through her teeth. She had actually liked Tabitha, until… "You like her. I can tell."

"Yes," Peter, looking at Tabitha, who had been talking to Mister Tumnus. "I like her."

Nia had wanted to scream.

* * *

And now, Peter was paying more attention to that… that chit than any other woman! And they actually made a handsome pair! Everyone, including Susan, Edmund, and Lucy said so.

Nia finished up the chocolate and drank some wine. She was wondering how to best leave the party unnoticed when someone tapped her shoulder.

It was Cor.

"May I have this dance?" he asked, bowing and offering his hand.

"You know I don't like dancing," said Nia. "And neither do you." Everybody liked Cor, but he was quite notorious for skipping his own parties.

"Well, you looked so dejected," said Cor, a mischievous twinkle in his bluish-gray eyes. "Jealous of a certain Terebinthian lady, perhaps?"

Almost dropped the goblet she was holding. "What?"

"Oh don't pull the innocent act on me, Nee. Aravis and I worked it out years ago. You," his voice dropped to a whisper, "are in love Peter. And you can't do anything about it because he might not like you back and you'd probably have ruined the friendship. Now he's attracted to Tabitha and it's killing you, but you can't do anything about it. And no, you're not obvious. Don't look so shocked… You know what I'm saying is true. And just so you know, Aravis and I think Lady Tabitha and the High King make a good pair."

"Oh, thanks," Nia said quite sarcastically. It was no use pretending to Cor now. And to Aravis, for that matter. "Just what I needed to hear."

"No, you haven't let me finish," Cor said, laughing softly. "They make a fine pair, but we think – nay, know – that you and Peter make the best pair."

"Right. Like we'd ever be together." Nia drained the goblet and set it down. "Let's dance?"

"No," sighed Cor. "You're right, I hate dancing. But oughtn't you be waltzing with some of those Islanders?"

Nia shook her head. "I've danced enough to last a lifetime." She felt someone tug at her sleeve.

"Highness." A young faun with shy, blue eyes bowed to her. "Would you please tell us a story?"

Cor choked in his wine. Nia shot him a withering look, and then gave the faun a gracious smile. "Of course. Lead the way." What was wrong with telling stories? Now, she would be able to do what she loved best (next to reading, of course), and she would be out of this infernal ballroom as well

She was disappointed, of course. The kids (two dozen young dwarves, fauns, Talking Animals, and human children) were sitting by the roaring fireplace at one end of the room. Oh, well. At least it was warmer.

She sat down on one of the pillows and said, "So... what kind of story would you like to hear tonight?"

* * *

Peter surreptitiously looked at Nia as he danced with Lady Tabitha. She (Nia) was telling what seemed to be an adventure story (judging by the slashing gestures she was making) to an audience of wide-eyed children. What tale was she telling? Peter wanted to know; it had been a long time since he listened to her stories. Maybe he should ask her, before she departed for Tashbaad…

"It is an honor to dance with you, my King," the lady he held in his arms murmured in a rather trembling voice.

"Believe me, the honor is mine," he replied.

Oh, yes, Tabitha… She was beautiful, all right, and curvy, not to mention smart. She was a good conversationalist, unlike those other women. But she wasn't Nia. Tabitha (as Peter discovered a few weeks after they first met) was easily frightened by everything, including (but not limited to) rats, Rats (yes, she is afraid of the Talking variety – can you believe it?), dark, Bacchus and his dancing girls, dark, fierce Animals… In fact, when she first entered Cair Paravel, she had to run straight into her room so no one could here her screaming at the sight if Oreius and Mister Tumnus.

Her… queerness was rather annoying, but Peter didn't mention that to her. Peter was a true gentleman, and a gentleman simply did not say harsh words to a lady. Besides, she had a kind soul. Her good qualities more than made up for that single bad one. She was an excellent conversationalist, and, all in all, a worthy woman.

She still could never replace his Princess.

He took another glance at Nia. She was, by far, the most beautiful female in the room – she and Susan, that is. The strangely iridescent crown with the single rose she wore on her head flashed different colors as she made what seemed to be a growling sound – she was too far for him to hear what she was saying. She was wearing a rose-colored, velvet gown with flaring sleeves of a darker rose color. It suited her, just like everything else she wore suited her. He wished he saw more of her, but traveling made Nia happy. She practically asked to be made the official Ambassador of Narnia! Peter wanted her to be happy, so he gave her the post. Now, she was twenty-one, and she was the most well traveled person he knew. Sure, he'd love for her to stay in the palace and be his Queen. But that was just wishful thinking.

He sighed inwardly and twirled the Lady Tabitha around.

* * *

"Oh, honestly, Cor," Queen Susan laughed. "You're almost twenty-two. Shouldn't you have your queen right now?"

Cor, Edmund, Susan, and Aravis were seated around a table. They had been teasing Susan about her numerous suitors, which included Prince Rabadash, the heir to the Calormene throne ("A spoiled brat if I ever saw one," Aravis remarked disdainfully). The sudden change of topic (and the question itself) took everyone, especially Cor, by surprise.

"A man's got to have his freedom first before settling into married life, Su," King Edmund said, chuckling. Cor knew Aravis found the Just King handsome, in a dark, brooding sort of way. Cor thought Edmund was a rather jolly fellow, if you were close with him, that is. "Cor's still young. He's got lots of time to find the right queen."

"There's no rush, really," said Cor. "I can wait." The truth was, he had already picked out the woman he wanted to marry: Aravis. He knew, the moment he was crowned King of Archenland seven years ago, that he would marry her one day. She was brave, yes, and clever as well. She was as proud and gracious, as any noblewoman should be, and as attractive as one could ever wish for. There was a minor problem with her quick temper, but he loved her. If those reasons were not enough to make her his queen, then he was a Calormene.

The problem was how he would tell her. She always quarreled with him; King Cor and the Lady Aravis were famous for their shouting matches. Would she accept him?

"I think I'll join Nia," said Aravis a few moments later, gesturing to where Nia was seated, telling stories (she was only a few feet away, so Cor caught the words "Sheriff of Nottingham", "bandits" and "Maid Marian"). "Excuse me, Your Majesties." She slid back her chair and stood up.

It was a now-or-never moment for Cor. If she refused him now… Well, at least he'd get this over with.

Taking a deep breath, he said, "Aravis, wait."

"What?" Aravis stopped and turned around.

Cor stood up, took her hand, and knelt before her.

"What in Aslan's name do you think you're doing?" Aravis demanded.

"Aravis of Anvard," he began, "will you marry me?"

* * *

Aravis gaped at him in shock. Did he just ask her to marry him? But that was impossible. Unless this was a dream… a very _queer_ dream, of course.

She was only vaguely aware of everyone in the ballroom watching her, eager to now her reply. A thousand thoughts were racing in her mind. Cor had never exactly told her he loved her. In fact, they fought most of the time. Why would he want her?

Sure, she was fond of Cor – she was _more than_ fond of him. But she had no idea…

"Why would you want to marry me?" she asked, finding her voice at last. She hoped her voice didn't tremble.

"Because I love you," said Cor, looking straight into her eyes. "I love you, and I want to be with you forever, as your husband, I hope."

"Well, this is rather unexpected," she said, feeling a rush of affection for the idiot. Spend forever with him? She was too young but…

But she realized she could. And she wanted to. She would like nothing else than to be with him. There was hope in his eyes, and something more.

"Yes." It was more of a mumble than a coherent word.

"What?" Cor nearly squeezed the life out of her poor hand. "I apologize… I didn't quite catch that."

"I said yes!" Aravis said, almost shouting. She felt like laughing hysterically. Maybe she was going mad, but who cared? She certainly didn't. "Stand up, you fool! I'm going to marry you!"

* * *

They were married that summer. Traditionally, the highest official of the country presided over weddings (marriages were so few back then, as were people), but since the highest official in the land – Cor – was the one getting married, The Hermit (who was High Chancellor of Archenland) was to facilitate the ceremony.

Aravis was still in her rooms, getting dressed. She was still in her robes when Nia had last seen her. The couple had immediately asked Nia to be their maid-of-honor right after the proposal. At first, she thought it was going to be an easy task, but it wasn't. She was the one who had to organize the wedding, from the food to the flowers, to… well, everything. Cor even asked her to foray far South into the heart of Calormen to invite Aravis's Tarkaan father into the wedding.

Aravis's father politely declined from coming to the wedding, saying that he still had many things to attend to, and that Archenland was too far for him to travel without missing a lot of things. Aravis was rather sad about this – she had not seen her father for over seven years – but she said she was fine about that.

Nia had done her very best to look presentable that day. She dressed herself in a beige-colored silk gown with gold-colored velvet sleeves and gold-colored satin shoes. She didn't wear her crown – it was impolite to wear your crown if you're in another country for social call (of course, political visits are an exemption from the no-crown rule). Instead, she wore the gift Father Christmas had given her two Winters ago: a golden chain which was fastened into her hair with a diamond the size of a penny that hung on her forehead, and let her ringlets loose.

"Ooh… look who's getting married," a familiar voice drawled from the door. Toulouse padded in nonchalantly into the room. He was still the same slender black cat who stumbled into Narnia seven years ago. There was a gold ribbon tied around his neck, which matched Nia's sleeves perfectly. "Preparing for your own wedding day?"

"Oh, please." She bent down and scratched the Cat's neck absently. "By golly, I'm tired."

"Why so, little one?"

"It's because I had to arrange everything. Who knew those two would leave it all in my hands?" She walked across the room and looked out of the window and into the lawns. Nia had the hedges trimmed into shapes of Talking Beasts and had peacocks scattered across the lawns. Sure enough, Peter was there (looking very handsome in blue), walking across the turf with another lady. The Lady Tabitha left for Terebinthia a week after the Winter Ball, never to leave her father's castle again. The poor girl was frightened out of her wits when the giants dropped by! Nia never knew Tabitha was such a scaredy-cat!

Now, Peter was being "friendly" with a lady from the Lone Islands. Her name was Cashieille, and she was, if that was possible, even more sophisticated-looking than Tabitha. Cashieille had flawless, fair skin, silky pale her, and shocking, purple eyes. She was twenty-one and cool, and Susan practically worshipped her. And Nia wanted to tear her apart, limb from limb.

Nia drew back from the window and sat on her bed, musing on Peter's "closeness" to various young women ever since he turned eighteen. Tabitha wasn't the first; Cashieille wouldn't be the last. He'd changed. Nia didn't expect him to be the womanizing type.

Alright, he was not exactly womanizing, but he was fond of meeting girls and being "friends" with them. His actions were driving Nia crazy, but what could she have done?

If there was one thing all those women had in common, it was their worldly beauty. She knew she would never, ever be as sophisticated as they were. And Peter would never like her.

"Nee, are you alright?" asked Toulouse. "You look pale."

"I'm fine."

"It's not about Peter, isn't it?" Toulouse knew very well it was. "Fine, maybe that was a rhetorical question."

"'Yes, it's about Peter," she sighed. "Let's just talk about something else." Peter was a good subject for small talk while on diplomatic visits, but she really didn't want to talk about her feelings for him. Best to keep it buried so deep he would never find out about it.

"Oh, er… You know that Prince Rabadash of Calormen is vain, right?"

"Isn't that common knowledge?"

"But did you know that the walls in his bedchambers are paneled with mirrors, so he could admire his face anytime he wanted?"

"Which," replied Nia, biting back a laugh, "is pretty much everytime?"

"Yup. Narcissistic, isn't he?"

Prince Rabadash had a beautiful face, if with rather feminine features. Nia had a strange mental picture of him standing in front of the mirror in his nightgown, examining his face very closely and murmuring, "I love you" to his reflection. She burst out laughing

* * *

It took Cashieille of House Espy only one look to know that Peter was in love. She and the High King met each other during the High King's visit to the Lone Islands about a month ago. And it took her another glance to determine that Peter was in love with that rather feisty princess, Nia.

Cashieille liked the Princess, who was Cair Paravel's perennial emissary to the Islands, and she found His Majesty very appealing, indeed. She had not the opportunity to get to know the Princess (her semi-dictator of a father only allowed her to see the embassy from Narnia during mealtimes; she was pretty much kept in the company of her ladies-in-waiting until His Majesty invited her to the King Cor's wedding), who had to leave for Anvard a day after the High King arrived, so she did not know if Her Royal Highness returned His Majesty's affections. She found them a very attractive pair. Indeed, no one could be more perfect for each other. She had wasted no time telling Peter what she thought. King Peter of Narnia, though, had replied with a sad smile.

What was so improbable about what she thought?

"It's beautiful here, isn't it? Nia certainly outdid herself," King Peter remarked as they strolled across the lawns in the shadow of Anvard castle. The note of affection in his voice was so obvious, he as good as said, "I love you Nia" outright. Why is it that Her Highness never noticed the way he looked at her? It was so… blatant!

"Cair Paravel is more beautiful, Your Majesty," Cashieille replied in a demure tone that really did not suit her. "But her Highness is very good at this, indeed." She knew Peter was here to bask in Nia's hedges and peacocks. As if that would help! "I think, sire, that if the Princess were to stay at Cair Paravel, she would be able to further enhance its beauty."

"I think so, too." His Majesty smiled sadly (which was his habit whenever they touched the subjects of the Princess). "But trimming hedges isn't Nia's world, Lady Cashieille. Traveling makes her happy. It would be selfish of me to deny her that." Now he was being frustratingly selfless. Were High Kings supposed to be like that?

"Yes, Your Majesty. But it would not hurt to tell her what you feel. If you tell her now, she would have months to think – or not think – about it until she returns to Cair Paravel for the Winter Ball. You must tell her, my King. It is for the best."

"But…" King Peter sighed. "You honestly think so?"

"I know so, my King. I know so."

* * *

The wedding was nothing short of spectacular. The whole of Archenland appeared to be crowded outside the castle, waiting for the King and their new Queen to finish the ceremony. Nia had to admit she felt satisfaction as she watched Cor and Aravis take their vows. Aravis looked splendid in a white gown, with her hair tied back in a knot and decorated with little white flowers.

The throne room was filled with close friends and acquaintances only. Aravis wanted a simple ceremony, and she was getting what she wanted.

"They are so romantic," she heard Susan say tearfully beside her (they were sitting on church-like pews). Susan looked gorgeous (as usual) in a gown of pastel pink. "I know we've waited for this for ages… And seeing them finally together…"

"I know," whispered Lucy from Susan's other side. She, too, was dabbing her eyes with a hankie. Lucy, who was nearing nineteen, now, was a very attractive young woman. She wasn't as beautiful as Susan, yes, but she radiated an air of exuberance and joy, you couldn't help but be pulled along. She was wearing a gown in several shades of blue. In fact, if Susan had not restrained her, she would've worn a gown of rainbow colors! Her hankie, though, was of rainbow colors. "I'm so happy for them!"

Peter and Edmund (and that Cashieille) were sitting across the aisle. Nia couldn't help but notice that Peter and Cashieille were whispering to each other. Whispering! During such a solemn ceremony? And what were they whispering about?

Fenrir and his fiancée (yes, he finally found a lover among the Terebinthians), a twenty-five-year-old lady named Maviel (she had strawberry-blonde hair and piercing green eyes, and was generally more attractive than beautiful) were sitting on the pew behind Peter's. There were many more guests, including Thom and his wife. Even Father Christmas had been induced to come out of Harfang (where he had been staying since the Ettinsmoor became an autonomous province of Narnia) to be one of the principal sponsors!

"In Aslan's name," said the Hermit, drawing Nia's attention back to the dais, "I now pronounce you husband and wife."

* * *

"Thank you thank you thank you thank you," Cor said happily that night, during the after-wedding ball. "Thank you so much!"

"What he's blathering on about," said Aravis, who was now Queen of Archenland, "is that we cannot thank you enough. You've done so much for us Nee." She gave Cor a swift kiss on the lips. "We couldn't be happier."

"Good for you!" said Nia. "Look, why don't you two dance? I'll just… watch here."

"Oh, honestly, you won't." It was Edmund, who'd approached them silently. He bowed to Nia and said, "May I have this dance, Milady?"

"I don't like dancing," Nia protested through gritted teeth. She took Edmund's hand, anyway, and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor.

"Well, you should start liking it. I do wonder why people love you as the Ambassador when you're such a party-pooper."

"I'm not a part-poop…" she trailed off as she saw Peter and Lady Cashieille eating and laughing on one side of the room. Edmund looked turned his head, and then looked at her, his dark eyes knowing.

"Aha!" whispered Edmund triumphantly. "I knew it!"

"Knew what?"

"You're…" he dropped his voice even lower, "in love with my brother dear, of course. For years, I've the feeling that you are, but now I've confirmed it! Don't say you don't, Nia. You know that won't work."

"Fine," hissed Nia rather defiantly. "Maybe I do love him. Just… Just don't tell him." Edmund quirked an eyebrow at this. "Please, Ed."

"Peter's always been fond of you Nia," said Edmund.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean exactly as I say. Peter loves you, Nee. No, don't interrupt. I've seen him worry over you when you ran away from Cair Paravel seven years ago. I've seen him worry over you whenever you're out on your diplomatic missions. He's happiest when you're around, but he thinks you're happiest when you travel, so he made you the official Ambassador. I've seen him look at you, and, suffice to say, it was the look of a man in love."

"It couldn't be… No, of course not…" Could it be? It was as if her shriveled heart was being pumped back to life again. Was it actually possible that Peter, in spite of his being close to other women, was in love with her?

* * *

"It's so sad to see them so far apart," sighed Lucy as she stood by the terrace with her sister, Susan. Susan took a break from dancing (she'd been at it for nearly an hour, straight) to talk to her about their favorite topic: the tragedy that was Nia and Peter. "Has he asked her to dance yet?"

"Nope," Susan replied. "He's still talking to Lady Cashieille."

"Again? He must be smitten with the Lady, then!"

"Lucy you know that's not true!" Besides, although she liked Lady Cashieille very much, it was Nia she wanted to be her sister-in-law. "Peter is on love with Nia. You've seen the way he looks at her. You've…"

"I know," said Lucy. "Of course I want Nia for Peter, but look…. They seem so distant."

"And you dare call me pessimistic! Honestly, Lu, look at it this way: Nia's avoiding Peter because she's afraid of her feelings for him."

"Oh, really?"

"I don't know." Susan rolled her eyes. "But they're perfect for each other!"

"You said the same for Peter and Tabitha. Look what happened."

"I really wasn't betting on Tabitha. I said they'd have made a handsome pair. But Peter should still end up with Nia."

"I agree, Su. But look at them. Peter and Cashieille are practically attached to the hip, and Nia doesn't seem to care."

"Oh, she does, Lu." Susan looked at Nia, who was dancing with Edmund. "I can feel it."

* * *

"Once again, your Princess outdid herself," said Cashieille, taking a bite of filet mignon. "What is the name of this dish again?"

Peter had to bite back a laugh. Nia had "borrowed" gourmet cuisines from England (or maybe France) for Cor's wedding. It was delicious alright, and the fact that Nia still had the recipe for seven gourmet dishes straight was astounding. "It's called filet mignon."

"And what about that soup with the lobster in it?"

"It's lobster bisque. Don't ask what those words mean. I don't know either." He scanned the room for Nia and saw her dancing with Edmund. He'd ask her for a dance later, but for now, all he wanted to do was to look at her.

"You are so obvious, she must be blind," sighed Cashieille. "Nothing short of a confession would make her look at you."

Thank the Lion for Lady Cashieille of Espy. She was a blessing, indeed. From the moment they'd met, she'd made it clear that he was not her type, and that she was clearly not his type either. He had been surprised when Cashieille told him that she'd guessed that he was in love with Nia. She was the one who was persistently telling him to confess to Nia, even to the point of comparing him with Cor.

"I admit I was not there when King Cor proposed to the Lady Aravis," she had said. "But I say it is a great show of bravery to admit to the one you love that you l ove her, no matter the odds that she does not love you back. He is a man full of valor, my King, and I know very well you are, too. If you do not admit to her that you love her, you will spend the rest of your life wondering what would have happened had you told her."

Cashieille was, to put it simple, an angel. Aslan's angel.

"I can never thank you enough, Cashieille," said Peter. He leaned forward to kiss her on the cheek when the Lady turned, so his lips brushed hers. He felt his face turn red and drew back hurriedly. "By the Lion, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."

"You did not mean to kiss me, my King," said Cashieille, who was surprisingly calm for someone who'd just been kissed by the most sought-after young man in the northern lands, "but the kiss did produce a rather interesting effect on your beloved Princess."

Peter looked just in time to see Nia leave the room. Edmund turned around and walked towards them.

"Congratulations," said Edmund, bowing to Lady Cashieille. "It seems as if you've attracted the eye of my brother."

"You saw…?" Peter began, but Cashieille cut him off.

"I assure you, my King, that it was an accident. Where has the Princess gone to?"

"She went out," Edmund said rather shortly. He undoubtedly believed Cashieille was lying about the kiss. Peter wanted to shake him.

"Oh, buzz off, Ed," Peter said, annoyed. "It was just an accident. You know I'm…" he stopped short.

"What do I know?" Edmund looked at him, his dark eyes piercing.

"What happened to Nia?" Lucy asked, walking with Susan towards them.

"We were looking out on the terrace, and we saw her running of the castle." Susan looked really worried. "What did you do Edmund? You were with her last."

"Oh, it wasn't me."

"I assure you, my King. She most certainly saw us." Cashieille said, clasping her hands in delight (much to the surprise and bewilderment of the two Queens). "If that is not jealousy, then I do not know what is." Then, she threw her hands up in frustration. "Follow her, you fool!"

If this were ordinary times, Peter would've told Cashieille off for calling him a fool, but his mind was busy digesting the implications of Nia's leaving the party she had organized. And then, his heart filled with hope, he ran out of the room.

* * *

So much for Peter being in love with her! Nia ran angrily out of the castle and into the city. She didn't care if anyone saw her. She had to run. As a teenager, she found running an avenue for releasing her frustrations. She stopped doing it when she turned eighteen, but she found the urge to do it now. The image of Peter kissing that Cashieille whore was etched firmly on her mind, urging her to go faster.

Edmund told her Peter loved her! That – that git gave her hopes!

Of course she couldn't be angry with Edmund forever. But for now, she certainly was. She wanted to slap the man!

Nia felt tears stinging her eyes and didn't bother wiping them away. She just ran and ran, until she found herself facing the gates of Anvard. Her mind automatically flashed back to the recapture of the city, and how she and some Archenlander soldiers opened the gates to admit Aslan and the rest of Cor's army in. It was certainly locked now. Maybe she should relax for a bit, and then head back to the castle… And then start preparing for Peter's wedding?

No… She shouldn't cry now. She'd been doing that for some time now, anyway. She wiped away her tears and headed towards a nearby well, where she could wash her face. She would rather die than let anyone see her like this.

"Oh, so there you are!" a man's voice exclaimed as she finished washing her face. It was dark, and the shadows concealed the man himself, but she would have recognized that regal, commanding voice anywhere. She stiffened.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, forcing her voice to sound nonchalant as she wiped her face with her hankie.

"Funny," said Peter stepping forward so she could see him clearly (or more clearly; it really was dark). His sounded serious now. Nia stepped back automatically. "I was going to ask you the same question."

**END OF CHAPTER**

* * *

_**AN: **Thanks so much for the reviews! So I hope you enjoy this chapter. RnR! And enjoy, of course!_


	24. Of Love and the White Stag

**CHAPTER 24: _Of Love and the White Stag_**

"I asked you first." Nia said, neatly evading the question. "What in Aslan's name are you doing here?"

"I saw you leave the room." This was a delicate matter, and Peter had to go through this as cautiously as possible. He didn't want to scare her away. What if Cashieille was wrong? What if _he_ was wrong?

"Well, I could just as easily have gone up to my room."

"Oh, er… I looked in your room and you weren't there," he lied

"Besides, you know how I loathe parties. And after seven-and-a-half years of balls and gatherings, I just had to get some fresh air… You know what I mean?"

Peter couldn't see her face clearly. There was a stone bench nearby with a lantern beside it. "Why don't we sit for a while, Nee? You were rather hard to find and…"

"We really should go back to the castle. Aslan knows what Cor and Aravis think of us now!"

"It's alright, really. I just want to sit for a while…"

"I'm a diplomat, Peter. I know it's taboo for guests to depart a wedding feast in so rude a manner."

It was obvious he wouldn't be able to have a decent conversation with her without his practically ordering it.

"Nia," he grasped her shoulders tightly. "We have to talk."

* * *

"Fine," sighed Nia, seating herself on the bench, her voice icier than she'd intended. "Let's talk." It was lucky the lantern was behind the bench… she could hide her face easily as long as she stared straight ahead. Best not let Peter see that she'd been crying… "What about?"

Peter, who sat beside her, gave an audible sigh. Honestly, what else did he want? They were talking now, were they not?

"Look, we haven't exactly had a proper conversation in a long time," said Peter.

"Of course we had. Remember that affair about Edmund and that Lasaraleen Taarkheena? And Susan and Prince Rabadash?" Nia smiled, thinking of Aravis's childhood friend Lasaraleen, who "fell in love" with Edmund the moment she saw him in the Tisroc's Palace in Tashbaad. It was a rather crazy affair, in which Lasaraleen tried various means to trick the Just King into marrying her (which didn't work, of course - Edmund was too smart). In the end, Nia had to talk to her Tarkaan father, and he sent his daughter back to their estates farther south. And she and Peter really had lengthy discussions about Susan and Prince Rabadash (they both opposed the union vehemently; Susan put the matter to rest by telling the Prince quite plainly that she could not abandon her country for him, and neither could he for her, much to the relief of her siblings and friends).

"Yes, but aside from that, you've talked of nothing but foreign politics. Cashieille says…"

"Congratulations about you and Cashieille, by the way," interrupted Nia, trying very hard to inject warmth in her voice. Might as well get this over with. "I saw you kiss." An annoying lump suddenly formed in her throat. "So… when's the wedding?"

Cashieille was right. Nia did see them, and she went out just right after the kiss. And now, she was assuming he would marry Cashieille? Was she jealous? What was she thinking right now? And how on earth was Peter going to talk to her if she kept staring into the night?

"First of all," Peter began, "Cashieille and I are not going to get married. That kiss was just an accident. I swear to Aslan, it was."

"Oh." There was no mistaking that Nia was taken aback by the information.

"Nia, look at me," Peter said gently.

"No, thank you very much… I find the light distracting when stargazing. They block out the constellations."

Fine, if this really was what she wanted, then.

"Sure, Nee. Cashieille is well-educated, smart, courageous (and no more Tabitha jokes, alright?) and beautiful. She's everything I would've wanted in a woman. But Nee, do you know why I can't marry Cashieille?"

"Because of political reasons? Because you're too busy to get married any time soon?"

"No." Maybe she did love him back, but would she take him? The thought of Nia refusing him made him somber again. "I cannot marry Cashieille of Espy because, although she is perfect – or as near perfect as anyone could ever hope to be – I'm in love with someone else."

"Oh, who is it? Tabitha?"

For an extremely smart person, Nia was being extremely dense.

"I love you, Nia."

* * *

"So… what do you think will happen?" Aravis asked Cashieille with barely suppressed delight. The Kings and Queens were gathered around her, trying to get a grasp of what was happening. Cashieille unflinchingly told them about the accidental kiss, and Nia's leaving the area (to which Edmund gave vigorous nods). "Will they get together?"

"Of course they will," said Lucy, who was now feeling optimistic. "I mean, they love each other, don't they?"

"We've been through that before, Lu," said Susan, who was feeling triumphant.

"What's taking them so long?" Cor asked.

"Protestations of love normally take long, Cor," said Aravis, looking at him mischievously. "It took you seven years to work up the courage to admit to me…"

"I did not!"

"Of course you didn't," said Aravis, kissing him playfully on the lips, and then winking conspiratorially at the ladies.

Edmund sighed and said, "All I know is that if they don't come back here happily in love – not to mention, engaged – I will kill Peter."

* * *

"I love you, Nia."

"What?" _Smooth, Nia. Really smooth_. She wasn't sure if there was something wrong with her hearing, or Peter really did say them, or…

"Look at me, Nee, please." He was pleading now. There was a roaring sound in Nia's ears as he covered her hands with his big, strong ones. "Please…"

Did he mean he loved her, as in he was _in _love with her?

She turned her face and met Peter's eyes – eyes that were full of concern and… something else. It was something she'd seen in Cor's eyes whenever he looked at Aravis. It was something she used to seen in her mother's eyes, a long time ago, whenever Helaena Evenshire looked at her husband.

"I'm in love with you, Nia," said Peter. "And if my eyes don't deceive me, you…"

Nia nodded, tears filling her eyes. Oh, it was such an annoying thing to do, crying, but at that moment, she didn't care. Peter loved her, the way she loved him. And he'd probably kept it all these years as well, for fear of losing her friendship. Maybe he was in love with her longer than she was, with him. All the years of thinking he did not love her back… All the drama… Her unfounded (well, not exactly completely) jealousy… And now, everything was out. Nia couldn't be happier.

"I love you too," she murmured just before their lips met for the first time. It was a very sweet kiss, mind you. Not passionate, not demanding. It was the kind of kiss lovers do when they've had it out, or when they're walking in the rain. It was long, however, though it seemed to have lasted only seconds.

Peter hugged her tight the moment they parted, and she hugged him back. Somewhere above them, Nia knew her parents were watching.

* * *

"I told you so," Susan said to her sister as they watched Peter and Nia enter the ballroom, their hands entwined, both wearing idiotic grins on their faces.

"I know," said Lucy. "Isn't it great?" With that, she approached Peter and Nia and began talking to them. With a sigh, Susan motioned at Edmund, King Cor and Queen Aravis, and they accosted the pair together.

"We're together," Nia was saying, grinning from ear-to-ear.

"Yes, we can see that." Queen Aravis said. "By the Lion, you've been mooning over him for the last seven-and-a-half years!"

"Oh, really?" Peter looked mischievously at Nia. "I never knew that."

"As if _you_ weren't mooning over her for the last seven-and-a-half years," scoffed Edmund.

"Yes, he did tell me something of the sort a while ago," sighed Nia to Peter, absently arranging the folds of his tunic.

After an hour (or so) of confessing, the two were as good as married. They looked so contented with each other… so in love… Susan felt a little twinge of jealousy. Where was her Peter? Where was the Prince Charming who'd sweep her off her feet?

Susan was sure _he _wasn't Rabadash.

"I thought you'd never tell her!" Edmund was saying. "You've got some backbone, after all! When are you two getting married?"

* * *

Needless to say everyone approved of the match. The love they sense between the two inspired the people to confess, to admit… Even though it hurt some of them. Doubtless Nia would make an excellent Queen. She was smart and approachable. She wasn't as lady-like as Queen Susan, but she was (to those who were old enough to remember, such as the giants, who live up to five hundred) a true Narnian, the perfect heir to Queen Swanwhite's legacy. And besides, the High King loved her. What other reason is there for his marrying her?

Everybody was in tenterhooks as to when Peter the High King would propose to the Princess Nia.

* * *

Peter proposed nearly three years after Cor and Aravis's wedding, on the beach below Cair Paravel. He and Nia were taking an afternoon walk when he suddenly knelt on one knee and brought out a ring. Susan, Edmund and Lucy (who were spying on them from afar) were overcome with joy. It is said that Queen Susan the Gentle had abandoned all lady-like grace and began jumping up and down like a lunatic, that the normally jubilant Queen Lucy the Valiant sat down on the floor and wept tears of joy, and that the normally reserved King Edmund the Just gave whoops that were loud enough to be heard in the Tisroc's Palace in Tashbaad.

Of course, those were just hearsays. It certainly is way past King Edmund's capabilities to whoop so loudly. They) did jump up and down like loons, however, as Nia said, "I will marry you, Peter Pevensie!" in the beach.

The wedding was always postponed because it either clashed with Nia's diplomatic visits, or Peter's inspections of his domain. Finally, they decided on the date: a fine autumn day almost exactly thirteen years since Nia arrived in Narnia. She was already twenty-seven, then. Everyone in Cair Paravel was busy dressing up the castle for the big (and much-awaited) wedding. Even Lady Cashieille (who was now engaged to a lord from Terebinthia) and Queen Aravis pitched in.

Nia would've been happily married by now, if it weren't for the White Stag.

* * *

It all began when Mister Tumnus (who was, by now, a middle-aged faun with a well rounded middle) burst into the Peter's drawing room with an excited look on his face.

"Sire," he said, "I've received reports that a white stag has been sighted in the Lantern Waste. A…"

"A White Stag, you say?" It was the day before Nia and Peter's wedding, and everyone knew that when you catch a White Stag, it would immediately grant your wishes. Thinking it would be good luck for the wedding, Peter ordered his horse be saddled immediately.

"And mine, too," said Edmund.

"And mine," said Susan.

"And mine," said Lucy.

"I would've loved to go," sighed Nia, "but I've got a wedding to plan."

"_Our _wedding, darling," said Peter, kissing her lightly. "Don't worry… We'll be back before you know it."

* * *

The stupid Stag was more elusive than the siblings thought as they hunted for it in the Lantern Waste. One moment, they saw it, and then it disappeared.

And then they saw the Lamppost Tree.

It was a very curious thing, indeed, for it was a tree of metal. Somehow, it stirred something deep within the minds of the Kings and Queens as they stopped to examine it.

"Spare Oom…" Queen Lucy murmured as they all dismounted, and then, almost as if some force had hypnotized her, she mechanically made her way through the evergreens.

"Lucy, wait!" said King Peter as he followed her through the trees.

"Not again!" sighed Queen Susan, who'd also followed, along with King Edmund.

"These aren't branches!"

"They're coats…"

Lucy soon found a door. She half-remembered it, and opened it, excited to see what was on the other side.

* * *

The four Pevensie children stumbled out of Narnia and back into England.

"We're back," said Susan, looking around in surprise. The children looked and saw that they were children once more. And that they were back in Professor Kirke's house in England.

The door opened to reveal the Professor Kirke, but Peter didn't notice that. As soon as he knew what was happening, he immediately rushed back into the Wardrobe. Finding that the way into Narnia was closed, he wailed in despair. He cried out _her _name, but it was a terrible, unintelligible cry

Oh, it was a terrible sound! It was the sound of a lover unintentionally separated from his loved one, perhaps for good.

Nia was gone. Peter Pevensie would never see her again.

He wailed louder and beat the back of the Wardrobe with his hands until they became black-and-blue all over.

A few minutes later, he stopped and came out of the Wardrobe and looked at his siblings. They stared at him with a mixture of horror and pity, and (in Lucy's case) guilt.

"Now that you've calmed down," said the Professor diplomatically, "would you like to tell me what happened?"

* * *

Almost a nanosecond after the Pevensies returned to England, in another part of the large house, the lid of a large, antique wooden chest creaked open.

**END OF CHAPTER**


	25. Narnia the Great

**CHAPTER 25: _Narnia the Great_**

Peter and the rest still hadn't returned that night. Nia was worried.

"You've got to rest, Nia," said Toulouse (who was now rather round in the middle). "Peter will be back by morning."

"He's right, Godmother," said Ram (Prince Ram of Archenland, Cor and Aravis's son and heir to the throne; age: four years old). The young prince was taking his role as ring bearer seriously. "I'll just wait for them while you sleep…"

"You'll go straight to bed young man, if you know what's good for you," interjected his mother. "Come. Stop bothering Godmother…"

"I'm not being a bother, aren't I?" Ram looked pleadingly at Nia with those big, dark eyes of his.

"No, you're not." Would her child be as adorable as Ram? "But you want to be a strong warrior like your father, right? As the old saying goes…"

"Early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise." Ram leaned forward and kissed her cheek. "Goodnight Godmother. Goodnight, Mother"

"Let's go Ram," said Cor, who had been sitting by the fireplace n Nia's drawing room. He stood up, and together, father and son left the room.

"They look so wonderful," mused Nia as she watched he door close behind the two.

"Dreaming of your child-to-be, Princess?" Lady Cashieille asked, smiling. Nia liked her very much, and found the Lady a very sensible person. If it weren't for Cashieille of Espy, she and Peter would never have confessed to each other.

"Yes."

"Well, you can dream during your honeymoon," said Aravis, her voice businesslike. "You really should have a rest…"

"How can I ever repay you two?"

"Oh honestly, this is my payment for _my _wedding, Nia."

"What are friends for?" Cashieille asked at the same time. "Besides, you an always arrange my wedding…"

There was someone knocking on the door.

"Come in," Nia called out, and the door opened, revealing Mister Tumnus, pale-faced and sweaty.

"Are you alright, Mister Tumnus?" Nia stood up and hurried to the Faun. "You're cold!"

"Maybe you should sit down," said Toulouse, as Aravis poured him some tea.

"No! No!" With that, he broke into sobs.

"Mister Tumnus!" cried Nia. "What's the matter?"

"I'm sorry, Nia! I'm sorry! I never should've told you about the Stag!"

"What?" Aravis handed the Faun his tea, but his hands were shaking so much, they spilled on the carpet.

In between Mister Tumnus's sobs and hiccups and apologies, the Cat and the three women pieced together what had happened. The long and short of was that the rulers of Narnia disappeared without a trace while hunting for the White Stag. The Beavers found their horses tethered by the Lamppost Tree, but they – Peter and Susan and Edmund and Lucy - were gone. The dryads, led by Pomona, searched the surrounding areas, but Pevensies were gone. They simply vanished.

Everyone was quiet (with the exception of Mister Tumus, who was still sobbing uncontrollably) for a while.

"I'm so sorry, Nee," said Aravis in a small voice. Nia didn't hear her.

Peter was gone. Peter was gone… perhaps forever. They all were. She was alone, huddled in a dark, cramped space. Everything was so dark, and so cold…

"You better sit down," said Cashieille, her purple eyes filled with worry.

They all heard a low, growling sound from the corner of the room, and they jumped.

"My children," said Aslan in greeting as he approached them.

"Oh Aslan!" Nia burst into tears and ran forward to hug him.

"Where are they, Aslan?" asked Toulouse. "The Pevensies… They simply vanished!"

Nia sobbed harder.

"They are fine," said Aslan. "Their time is past. Dry your tears, Narnia. Hush."  
Somehow, it seemed that what Aslan was about to say was so important; Nia stopped sobbing and sat in the nearest armchair.

Someone knocked (yet again) on the door, which opened to reveal Fenrir and Cor. They stopped dead at the sight of Aslan.

"High King of all High Kings…" Fenrir whispered in awe. He stepped forward and knelt in front of the Lion. "Forgive me, my Lord, for my betrayal. I have sworn to you before, ad I will swear my fealty to you again."

"The past is forgiven, my son," said Aslan, placing a paw on Fenrir's shoulder. "You have sworn fealty to me, and now I ask you to do the same thing for your Queen."

Nia started. What was Aslan saying?

"Swear fealty, Fenrir Lightningpaw, to your new Queen, Narnia."

* * *

Déjà vu.

Nia was, for the second time in thirteen years, walking down the aisle for her coronation. This time, though, there was no Peter, no Susan or Edmund or Lucy, waiting for her at the end. This time, her throne was the throne where Peter used to sit. This time she was to be crowned Queen.

Everyone was solemn this time. They were still mourning for the loss of the four Kings and Queens. During the past month since Aslan announced that she was to be made Queen, Nia spent her energies searching everywhere for her fiancé and his siblings. They were gone.

Not that they opposed Nia as Queen. In fact, every Narnian thought Nia a perfect ruler: wise and smart. It was just that they couldn't believe their rulers could disappear so suddenly.

But someone had to keep the country running.

The TFC, who'd remained loyal to her all these years, stood near the front; Cor and his royal family were standing across the aisle. Aslan, Toulouse, and Mister Tumnus (who was bearing her new crown) were waiting at the end of the aisle.

Oh, yes. That was another thing different with this coronation. This time, Aslan was the one who would announce her.

The pink silk gown she was wearing proved cumbersome as she walked, and her curls, which were tied back, save a few ringlets that framed her face, swished and swayed.

She reached the end of the aisle, and knelt in front of Aslan. Aslan placed his right paw on her right shoulder and blessed her, then moved to allow Mister Tumnus to take her old coronet and replace it with her new crown.

The new one was a modified version of the old. It was still an Aslium crown that flashed different colors as the light hit it, but this time, it was fashioned into a wreath of roses. Who would've thought the little girl who was running through the woods would be a Queen? She certainly didn't.

"I give you Queen Narnia," said Aslan in his majestic voice, "the Wayfarer."

She had to smile at that. Instead of an adjective describing her because of something about her that was yet to be proved, Aslan had styled her with a word that was closely associated with her. She wasn't the Luminous Queen, or the Brilliant Queen (she was both of those, actually). She was the Wayfarer Queen. The Ambassador of Narnia.

"Rise, Queen Narnia."

She stood up and climbed up the steps to Peter's throne… her throne now. Before she sat, she turned and faced the audience, her countrymen… and her friends.

"We are mourning over the loss of Peter, the High King, Susan the Gentle, Edmund the Just, and Lucy the Valiant," she began. "I don't expect any of us will ever get over the sorrow of losing them." She certainly wouldn't. An annoying lump formed in her throat. By the Lion did she want to cry! "But we have to live with our loss. We have a country to manage. _They_ wouldn't want Narnia to go into waste." The thought of Peter's beloved Narnia, ruined, was unbearable. "And we don't want that, too. Let us then go forward and continue what Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy have started. The sorrow may be part of our hearts forever, but we have the future generation to nurture… We must bestow upon them a land where milk and honey flowed in abundance." She vaguely remembered reading that in the Bible. "Our former rulers are gone, but we're here. We've inherited their legacy, and we have to make it our own. Think of the past, my friends, and think of the future. There is nothing to be done about the past, but there's a lot to be done for the future. What must be done must be done. Let's do it!"

* * *

There was no after-coronation feast. It would be held during the spring instead. Everyone wasn't feeling up to it.

During the following months, Nia formed her set of advisers, which included Toulouse, Mister Tumnus, Oreius, Reginbrik, Gawgon, and Fenrir. Lady Cashieille was assigned to be one of her ladies-in-waiting. The Tisroc had wasted no time sending one of the Tarkaans to congratulate her.

Those months became years. She wasn't as free to travel as she once was, for she had taxes and economics and national policies to mind. She had to pass laws and drabble in politics the way she never had before. But she visited Harfang, Lone Islandss, Terebinthia, Archenland, and even Calormen, whenever she could. She traveled more frequently than the Pevensies ever did, put together. She was the Wayfarer Queen, there was no doubt about that. She personally took care of foreign relations – it was her specialty, after all. During her reign, there were no wars, not even after Prince Rabadash ascended the throne and became Tisroc (this happened ten years after Nia became Queen). It was still the Golden Age. Narnia reached the peak of her wealth in arts, literature, and economy, in her reign.

There were the sad parts, too. Mister Tumnus died twenty years after her coronation, and Beaver followed a year after. The real miracle was Toulouse, who aged but didn't die (and showed no signs of dying any time soon). Fenrir, who was sailing home from Cair Paravel, was caught in a storm; his ship sank and he drowned. This was thirty years after her coronation. The TFC, however, remained.

Nia soon realized the importance of having an heir to her throne. She refused to marry, so she adopted Ramon, Cor and Aravis's younger son (younger than Ram by five years) as her heir.

* * *

She was already an old woman when she decided to take that quiet walk in the woods. After fifty years of running the show, she was seriously contemplating abdication. She was already nearing her eighties. She had to rest.

"You're still healthy, Nia," said Toulouse, who was quite ancient himself, though still perfectly healthy. "I'll be darned if you can't rule for another twenty years."

It was a beautiful autumn day, and what more agreeable way spend it than walking in the Lantern Waste, by the Cauldron Pool?

"I still will be the Queen Mother," replied Nia. "Ramon is ready. Look at me, Tou. I'm old and weary. I can't rule much longer. Might as well do it now, while I can sill guide Ramon during his first years as King." Then, she smiled, remembering Peter. Dear, sweet Peter… She hadn't seen him in a very long time. She hadn't seen all of them in a very long time.

"You're thinking about them, aren't you?"

"Yes… No, Tou. I'm not thinking of what might have happened. I…"

"I say what's that?" Toulouse suddenly ran deep into the woods.

"Toulouse!" She could no longer run as she used to. She hobbled in the direction he went, and found him sitting patiently by a heavily battered wooden chest. "What's that?"

"It's a chest, obviously," said Toulouse, rolling his eyes. "Remember when we were younger? We used to hide in trunks when playing hide and seek."

"Maybe we could lie there again, see what it feels like to play that game again," said Nia, a smile forming in her weathered, wrinkled face. It was a grandmotherly face, with thinning, snow-white curls, and warm, intelligent brown eyes usually crinkled into a smile. She bent down gingerly and lifted the lid. It was surprisingly light. She crept inside, and Toulouse followed nimbly. The lid suddenly fell down on them.

"Maybe we should get out." Nia was beginning to regret climbing into the chest. She felt like she was in a coffin.

"Agreed. It's too dark…"

"What did you expect?"

"And hot, too."

"Nevermind." Nia shifted and pushed the lid off…

* * *

And found herself staring not at the sky, but at a strangely familiar ceiling.

From far away, she could hear someone (a cranky old female) shouting, "Narnia Evenshire! Where in the world are you?"

* * *

Far away, in another world, inside a magnificent castle by the sea, a young Faun placed a crown upon the head of a man in his middle years, with flecks of gray in his dark hair.

"Rise, King Ramon," said the Lion. "Speak to your people."

King Ramon of Narnia felt his throat tighten as he saw the people assembled in front of him… His brother, the King of Archenland, and his brother's wife, Queen Brunnhilde… His mother, the Queen Mother Aravis… His wife (who would be crowned the next day), Signy… How he wished his father was here. But Cor was dead. And how he wished Aunt Nia was here…

"Fifty years ago," he began, "you crowned a Queen, who was brokenhearted, mourning over the loss of her High King. During King Peter's reign, the land achieved extreme wealth, intellectually and economically. During Queen Narnia's reign, she managed to pull us up to dizzying heights, in spite of her heartaches. She entertained us with her stories of Scheherazade, of Wendy Darling, and of Dorothy. She was the mother who took care of us all. She made the land into what it is today – into what _we _are today. You helped her then, and I humbly ask you to help me now.

"My friends, in the fifty years my Aunt Nia ruled, she has ceased to be the Wayfarer she once was. She has become as solid as that pillar over there. We've all watched her become the greatest Queen in the history of Narnia. And now, let us all honor the legacy of she, who was once the Wayfarer Queen. Let us all take a moment to remember Narnia, the Great."

**END OF CHAPTER**


	26. A Memory to Cherish

**CHAPTER 26: _A Memory to Cherish_**

"Narnia Evenshire!" The old woman shouted. "Where are you?"

"We're no longer in Narnia!" gasped Toulouse, leaping out of the chest. "Hurry! We've got to…" He looked at Nia. "By the Lion, Nee, you're young again!"

Nia hurriedly stood up and looked at the nearest mirror. She was a girl again. Her hair was as messy as ever and her clothes were English.

"We've got to go back," said Toulouse, jumping back into the chest.

Nia was about to follow when the door opened.

"There you are!" cried Mrs. MacReady. "I've been looking all over for you!"

Mrs. MacReady… The Professor's house… Everything came rushing back to her… The memory of a beautiful summer day in a very large house. Apparently, in the sixty plus years she'd spent in Narnia, time hadn't passed at all in this world!

"Skulking around the Professor's office!" Mrs. MacReady sounded indignant. "Shame on you, Narnia! Professor Kirke will be very angry!"

Professor Kirke! He'd be able to help her get back! Of course… This was his house! But where was he?

"Breaking the glass Plato…" Mrs. Macready was saying. "And the priceless suit of armor, too."

"What armor?" she found herself saying at last. Her girlish voice sounded strange… Very strange. She remembered breaking the darned glass bust, even though it seemed such a long time ago. But what was that suit of armor The MacReady was talking about?

"And you dare answer!" Mrs. MacReady thundered. "Come with me, you little chit! Just because you're a duchess doesn't mean you'll get special treatment! Go to your room and think about what you've done, young lady!" And with that, she grabbed her roughly by the arm and dragged her out of the office.

At the corner of her eye, she saw Toulouse climb out of the chest and follow them.

* * *

"Narnia Evenshire!" Professor Kirke's eyes were wide. "Are you sure?" 

"As sure as we're here in front of you, sir," said Edmund. Lucy was weeping silently and Peter was staring out the window, tears streaming from his eyes. Only Susan and Edmund were stable enough to talk to the Professor.

"But… Why is Peter ... like that?"

"He and Nia were engaged to be married when we…" Susan made a sweeping gesture.

"Then I must assume that she entered the gateway to Narnia almost the same time as you have. Tell me her story."

* * *

"We've got to sneak back into the office," Nia whispered to Toulouse a few minutes after the MacReady left them. "We can't stay here. Ramon's bound to be looking for us." 

"What? With the MacReady on the prowl?"

"We'll just have to avoid her." She stood up, fluffed a pillow, put it in her bed, and covered it with a quilt. Then, she opened the door, looked left and right, saw that no one was there, and signaled for Toulouse to follow. She locked the door from the inside, and they made their way to the office, with Toulouse often sneaking ahead to look of any of the servants were around. Once, Ivy (one of the servants) was about to meet them in the corner. It was lucky they'd been able to hide in the tapestry.

Finally, after what seemed like hours, they reached the office.

No one was there.

"So… do we wait for Professor, or do we return on our own?" asked Toulouse.

"Let's try this by ourselves first," replied Nia. She lifted the lid of the chest and clambered inside. Toulouse jumped in after her, and she closed the chest. She waited for a while.

"On the count of three, Tou," she whispered a few minutes later. "One…two… three!" She gave the lid a push.

It wouldn't budge.

* * *

"We'll do better if we talk here," said the Professor, opening the door to his office. The Pevensies filed in. 

_What a good funeral party we'd make, _thought Susan wryly as she sat on one of the armchairs. Lucy sat on the floor, and so did Edmund. Poor Peter, who was still reeling from their sudden departure, took a seat on the large antique chest by the window and looked into the courtyard. He was yet to speak a word.

"You see, Helaena Evenshire was a very close friend of mine," the Professor began. "You can imagine how upset I was when she and the Duke… passed away."

Susan nodded dumbly.

"Now, when Lena died, I thought of what I could do for her poor daughter, Nia. And so I decided to…"

"That's Narnian wood, isn't it?" Lucy asked, motioning towards the chest Peter was sitting on. Trust Lucy to interrupt something really important.

"Ah, yes," said Professor Kirke. "When I visited Narnia, I brought back an apple, the seeds of which I planted here. The wood was later used to make the Wardrobe, and that chest."

"Interesting," said Lucy, her eyes wide.

"She's gone," Peter said suddenly. He turned his face towards them. Susan could see his bloodshot eyes… He really was taking Nia's loss hard.

Everyone was quiet. All that was to be heard was a dull, thumping sound and a muffled "Help!" which seemed to be coming from…

"The chest!" cried Susan, hurrying towards it. "Peter, what are you doing? Open it!"

* * *

It was getting really hard to breathe. And it was infernally hot in that godforsaken chest, too! 

Nia pounded mercilessly at the lid.

"Help!" Toulouse yelled. "We're stuck!"

Suddenly, the weight on the chest vanished and someone from outside lifted the lid.

Nia found herself looking at the face of someone she hadn't seen in a long, long time. He was a but younger than when she first saw him in Narnia, of course, but it was still _him._

"Peter."

* * *

Peter couldn't speak. It was Susan who rushed forward to help _her_ up. Her face was a bit red, and she gasped a lot.

But it was _her_. And the sight of _her_ gave life to his shriveled heart. He never thought he'd see her again… Never… He pulled her to him and hugged her tight.

"I missed you!" he said, tears falling into her unruly hair. "I swear to Aslan, I missed you!"

"I missed you too," Nia whispered back, then broke away and stared at him. "You were here all along! And the rest of you! And you never came back!"

"I'm sorry, Nee." Peter said. He didn't know whether he ought to laugh or cry. His tears were falling, anyway. "I mean I…"

"It's alright, Peter." Tears spilled out of her eyes, too. "It's alright now…"

"We just came back half an hour ago!" exclaimed Lucy.

"Actually, I returned here at… almost the same time! I just returned here so I could go back to Narnia and," Nia gestured sadly at the chest, "I suppose the way's closed."

"But we have to get back to Ramon" said Toulouse urgently.

"Who's Ramon?" asked Edmund.

"My heir – Cor and Aravis's younger son."

"You became Queen!" squealed Lucy in delight!

"Yes, and they called her Narnia the Wayfarer," said Toulouse, who'd leapt out of the Chest right before Nia climbed out.

There was a commotion after this. Edmund began asking about Narnian politics, and Lucy wanted to talk about the people of Narnia; Susan wanted to know about the social scene, and Peter was mainly concerned about what had happened to Nia after they left.

"Wait!" said the Professor loudly and suddenly. Then, he smiled warmly at Nia. "Nee, tell us your story, right from when you first entered Narnia."

"It's a long tale," said Nia, after disentangling herself from the Pevensies. "After all, sixty-three years is a long time."

* * *

It was a year later, Nia had just returned to her school after summer break - a co-educational boarding school called "Experiment House" (Uncle Nicky decided to send her there a year ago because he and the Professor thought it was the only school worthy of Nia's intelligence). It was interesting there, actually. The teachers challenged Nia's mind and pushed her to the limits of her intellect. 

The only problem with Experiment House was the students. Nia had never met a more cynical group.

To be sure, Experiment House accepted very few students, and fewer than ten managed to graduate every year. It was a good school. Nia just wished the people there were friendlier. And a lot less cruel to animals, too! Toulouse very nearly became a guinea pig for Adelaide Poe's investigatory project!

Nia spent the summer in Finchley with the Pevensies. Oh, it was a fun summer! They played archery and hide and seek! Mr. Pevensie came back from the Army, much to the surprise of everyone.

Best of all, Nia and Peter had renewed their vow of love. They agreed to wait until both of them had stable jobs before they get married. They had a lifetime together ahead of them, and they were still young, after all!

The Pevensies were probably in their way to school by now. Nia (who was sitting on a bench by a pond at the back of the school) smiled at the thought of little Lucy going to boarding school for the first time.

It was nice, sitting here by the pond. Here, no one would disturb her while she recalled her years in Narnia. She wondered what Ramon was doing? Was he a good king? She knew he was. She wondered if Aravis was still alive. She wondered how King Ram fared as King of Archenland (he ascended the throne a year before Nia returned to England). There were a lot of things she wanted to know… She wanted to return to Narnia. At first, she found it hard to accept that she couldn't come back, but now, she'd sort of accepted that Aslan had other plans for her. But deep in her heart, she knew she would return home – for Narnia was her home now. In Aslan's time, she would return.

Besides, Peter was here, and that was more than enough consolation.

"Will's coming," whispered Toulouse, interrupting her reminiscing. Nia turned to see her cousin Will striding across the lawns towards her. He was a tall, lanky young man with a mop of red hair, and he was her only human friend in this school.

"Telephone call," said Will. "It's your friend, Susan. Says it's urgent…"

Nia was running back to the school before Will could finish his sentence.

"Su, what's up?" she asked the moment she reached the receiver at the Administrator's office.

"Nia, we've just come back from – you wouldn't believe this." Susan's voice sounded very excited (the fact that it was palpable was remarkable, considering that she was calling from somewhere halfway across the country). "We've just returned from Narnia!"

**THE END… _(of this story, anyway)_**

* * *

_**Author's Note: **A big THANK YOU for all those who've read and/or reviewed my story, _For Narnia._ It's been so much fun doing this story, and now it's done. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to you all! Cheers!_

_**P.S. **Watch out for the sequel, coming soon!_


End file.
